


Everything We're Not

by heckhansol



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: All that stupid love stuff, Angst, Classic high school melodrama, First Kisses, Fluff, Get those cliche pockets ready bc I have some million dollar content, High School AU, JunHao - Freeform, M/M, Pining, Romance, Smut, jeongcheol - Freeform, meanie, mentions of depression, verkwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 84,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckhansol/pseuds/heckhansol
Summary: "He's pretty annoying."Wonwoo hums and tilts his head. "I don't think so. He's just like everyone else. Being someone he's not."- - -This is a high school AU for Seventeen, but the point was to put the four classic OTPs in one story: Jeongcheol, Meanie, Junhao, and Verkwan. If you're looking for four love stories, then welcome to the Academy.





	1. -Introduction-

INTRODUCTION//IMPORTANT INFO//DISCLAIMER (first chapter is next)

 

Extra Characters

Jackson (Got7; Seungcheol’s roommate, on the football team)

Hoseok (BTS; Soonyoung’s roommate)

Hanbin (iKON; Hansol’s roommate)

Junmyeon (EXO; Mingyu’s roommate, Jisoo’s friend)

Minseok (EXO; student)

Chanhee (SF9; Chan’s roommate)

Johnny (NCT 127; Jisoo’s roommate)

Eunkwang (BtoB; Seungkwan’s roommate)

Minhyuk (Monsta X; Mingyu’s mutual regular)

Changkyun, Hyungwon, and Hyunwoo (Monsta X; Mingyu’s friends)

Youngmin and Dongho (NU’EST; Junhui’s friends, on the lacrosse team)

Jisung and Jaemin (NCT Dream; Soonyoung’s friends)

Taehyun (Winner; student)

Pledis CEO as the history teacher lol

 

The years in school correspond to their year lines:

95- seniors

96- juniors

97- sophomores

Maknae- freshmen (Chan- early entry)

(See introduction below for more info)

 

Period Schedule:

1 – 8:30

2 – 9:40

3 – 10:40

Lunch – 11:30-12:20

4 – 12:30

5 – 1:30

6 – 2:30

Final Bell – 3:25

 

3rd Period Seating Chart

 

xxxx

| 

LJH

| 

xxxx

| 

JWW

| 

WJH  
  
---|---|---|---|---  
  
LSM

| 

BSK

| 

xxxx

| 

KMG

| 

xxxx  
  
XMH

| 

xxxx

| 

CHS

| 

YJH

| 

CSC  
  
KSY

| 

LC

| 

HJS

| 

xxxx

| 

xxxx  
  
                        [FRONT OF ROOM]

 

Introduction/Disclaimer

Hello and welcome to your classic all-male high school AU, full of idiots, stupid relationships, and barely legal sex. PLEASE if that bothers you just don’t read this. Kids in high school have sex. That’s the truth of it, and we’ve all been through high school and know that well enough. (And if you haven’t yet been in/through high school, you might be a little young for this story.)

****This is set in an academy that begins during the typical sophomore level—if you excel in freshman year at your parent school, you can move to this academy for four years subsequent (i.e. you’re a freshman twice if you move after freshman year. This gives you five years of high school). This is also set in America, northeast somewhere, and thus the American legal age of consent of 16 years old applies even though they’re Korean/Chinese because that’s how the law works. The only person who is underage IN THIS STORY, not in real life I will say, is Chan (14 years old), and he’s not doing any of that mess. _Don’t read it_ if you think otherwise. I will also mention that everyone else who IS doing that DOES WANT TO. This is all **consensual ** and anyone who is 18 is with someone who is also 18 or older. The ages at the start of the story ( _disregarding actual in real life birthdays_ ; consider this aged-down and that their birthdays are moved around I guess, some early some late) are as follows:

CSC: 18

YJH: 18

HJS: 18

WJH: 17

JWW: 17

LJH: 17

LSM: 17 (early birthday)

KMG: 16

XMH: 16

BSK: 16 (early birthday)

CHS: 16 (early birthday)

LC: 14 (early program entry)

Any questions, just ask.

Also!! High school kids say shitty things. Any insulting words in this story are definitely just for the story, and I love and respect all of the idols mentioned here and know that the ones who are mean in the story aren’t that way in real life.

While this is horrifyingly cliché in genre, I know, I hope that I can make this different from if not the best of others you’ve read before!

Again, this is an American style high school AU. If you know anything about the Korean school system you know that it is super strict and intense, so none of this would be happening in Korea, which is why I call it American style. If you want to think of this as an exchange school or like an academy for Asian males in America, that’s cool. The whole point of this was to stick the four classic OTPs into one story. And uhh,,, I hope you like it!

Once more for the people in the back: the only legally underage person on the basis of consent to sexual activity in this story is Chan, and he is not having sex. If you have any questions about age or consent, ask in the comments, or shoot me an ask/DM on Tumblr at say-the-name-xvii.

 

eskeetit.


	2. 12/13: Third Period History Class

DAY 17: INTRO. NEW WORLD

_10:30 am_

“If we could get about twenty copies of these that’ll be great,” Jisoo says, handing papers over to his clubmate. He starts to turn away but stops and looks back. “Or—if you can just keep track of them I can do it later. I’m sorry, I’ve got to head to class.”

            “It’s ten minutes before bell?”

            “I like to get there early,” he answers back, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

            His clubmate shakes his head at him. “No worries. I’ll have it done by lunch.”

            Jisoo smiles. “Thanks, Junmyeon.” He starts down the hallway past the lockers to get to third period.

            Almost immediately, a tan arm wraps over his shoulders. He sighs and shakes his head, smiling. “No, we didn’t have homework yesterday, Mingyu.”

            Mingyu heaves a sigh. “Thank god. I was starting to worry.”

            “Ten minutes before class and you’re just starting to worry?”

            Mingyu clicks his tongue and doesn’t answer. Then he pulls Jisoo a little closer to him and says through a toothy smile, “Hey, what are you doing this weekend?”

            Jisoo laughs and shrugs Mingyu off his shoulders. “Not you,” he singsongs.

            Mingyu gasps as Jisoo winks at him. He brings one hand to his chest and puts on a mock expression of hurt. “Rude.”

            Jisoo laughs again, and Mingyu’s attention is gone as soon as it came when Lee Minhyuk taps his shoulder with a grin. Jisoo shakes his head and says a useless, “See you in class.” He goes through the doorway into room 1331, taking his seat in the front middle of the empty room.

            Not a minute later his friend comes walking in with that big smile on like always, saying good morning and bowing too low to him. He smiles and says, “You’ll have to cut that out, Lee Chan, or you’ll be bowing all year.”

 

Lee Chan receives a high five from a sophomore when he walks through the double doors into the courtyard of the Academy. He grins and says a quick “Hi, hyung!” before hiking his heavy backpack up on his shoulders and continuing through to the tables where the clubs have all set for sign-ups. He picked up a flyer for one of the new clubs yesterday, and he figures since he knows the leader and it sounded fun, he might as well sign up.

            He goes to the signing table and is met by Junmyeon—a senior, he remembers—who greets him with, “Good morning.”

            “Hello,” Chan says, bowing. “I’m Lee Chan.”

            The senior smiles. “Lee Chan. Come to sign your life over?”

            Chan laughs and nods. “I found this flyer yesterday.” He pulls it out of his backpack and shows it. “Sounded fun?”

            “Ah, Jisoo’s new child,” Junmyeon says.

            Chan blinks for a second before realizing that Junmyeon meant the club. “Oh.” He laughs again. “Yeah. Is it too late to sign up?”

            “Not at all. Maybe Jisoo can…” He trails off, looking around. “Ah, he’s just gone to class. Always early to third period. Says he has a friend he sits next to that he likes to talk to before the teacher gets there. Anyway.” He waves his hand. “You’ll need this.” He hands Chan a pen.

            “Thank you,” Chan says, his neck a little warm from what Junmyeon just said.

            “You know, I think I’ve heard your name around, Lee Chan. Hey—aren’t you going to be announcing at the football games this season? No freshman has done it before.”

            Chan grins again, signing his name in the right box. “Yeah. I’m nervous about it.”

            “Well, you must know Jisoo is the other announcer already. I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you the ropes.”

            Yes, Chan did know that. He’s nervous about being around someone who’s good at pretty much everything. He nods. “I hope so. Thank you, hyung.”

            Junmyeon takes the pen and smiles. “See you around, Lee Chan.”

            Chan bows again and starts for the hallway to class to get there early, heart happy with the approaching afternoon of this good day.

            He couldn’t have really asked for a better first year here. Being younger than almost everybody with his early entry at fourteen years old, he was afraid he’d be outed, or at least not given a glance by all of the older guys, and that he would have to struggle through it and make up for it with hard work and tenacity—his specialties. But for some reason the guys love him—they treat him like a little brother, even if they don’t know who he actually is or if he doesn’t know their names in return (though he does do his best to remember as many people as he comes across). Apparently, after just over two weeks here, word has gotten around that “Lee Chan is the newest kid genius” at the Academy. And yeah, he may be in four sophomore-level classes this year out of six, and he is pulling straight A’s so far, but he wouldn’t exactly call himself a genius. He just likes school and learning and people. He supposes that so far, things are going quite all right for him.

            He smiles widely and waves hello to another sophomore who he recognizes from his class as he heads down the hall to his third period history room. Jisoo is already there when he walks in, so he bows respectfully with a big smile. “Good morning, hyung.”

            “You’ll have to cut that out, Lee Chan, or you’ll be bowing all year,” Jisoo says, smiling back.

            Chan laughs and takes his seat near the front right of the room, right next to where Jisoo sits. On their first day, he was intimidated by being assigned a seat next to a senior, but Jisoo introduced himself first and was really nice to Chan, charming in general. No wonder he heads half the clubs at the school and is student body president.

            “Sorry, hyung. Can’t help it,” Chan says. He plops his backpack down, taking out his notebook, textbook, pencil, and pen before lacing his fingers and putting his hands on his desk.

            “Are you ready for the first test tomorrow?” Jisoo asks.

            Chan smiles and shrugs. “Yeah, I think so. I’m studying more tonight.”

            Jisoo shakes his head at him. “You’re probably more ready than I am. Hey, do you want to do a study group in the library later? I have a huge stack of flash cards we can go over.”

            Chan feels his cheeks tingeing pink. He grins. “Yeah, hyung. Sounds great. Uh—I just signed up for the new club.”

            Jisoo’s eyes crinkle in a smile. “That’s awesome! I might set up a meeting after school today. We can study after that.”

            Chan nods enthusiastically.

 

Minghao waves back to the kid from his next period as he heads to his hallway locker, smiling a little but lifting an eyebrow. He really should just be thankful for Lee Chan—he’s the only one who would ever wave to him anyway.

            But that’s exactly why he _is_ skeptical. Since moving to this school this year, coming in as a second year instead of a freshman, he’s always been the odd one out, the one nobody really talks to. He doubts if even the kids in his actual classes know his name, much less anything about him. He knows his title here: “that kid.” He figures it could be worse.

            He opens his locker and pulls out his brown suede jacket because history class is always freezing. Sometimes he envies jocks like Choi Seungcheol—quarterback of the football team—who get to wear their lettermans all the time and not be questioned about it. Not that anyone questions him about anything. Not to his face, anyway.

            He hears them sometimes—the hardly quiet _That kid’s weird_ and the like in the hallways. Even some people in his classes; that Junhui who sits in the corner next period, for example, who’s always with his lacrosse clique in the halls and at lunch. Minghao envies his letterman jacket too.

            But he doesn’t really get it—he’s never done anything to hurt anyone. He’s never done anything at all besides go to class and do his homework and go back to his dormroom. Maybe that’s why he’s strange, though. Maybe just because he _isn’t_ fake, and isn’t anything he isn’t supposed to be. He’s too boring for the others, so they make him _weird_.

            But it could be worse.

            He grabs his textbook and closes his locker, heading for class. He steps out of the way of Choi Seungcheol speaking widely with his hands as he passes him, shakes his head at the dramatic slam of Seungcheol’s boyfriend’s locker, and heads through the door to his seat in third period.

 

“Han!” Seungcheol calls after his boyfriend, following him to his locker. “Han, what’s wrong? I’m sorry.”

            Jeonghan yanks open his locker and shoves books in and out for their next class. “You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

            “You won’t tell me!” Seungcheol says, throwing his arms out.

            Jeonghan squints at him. “I shouldn’t have to. _Think_ , Seungcheol. Use that big head of yours.” He grabs his history textbook, handing over Seungcheol’s notebook without looking at him.

            Seungcheol takes it and sighs. “Hannie, if you just tell me—”

            Jeonghan’s locker rattles when it slams shut. “I’m going to class.” He brushes his long hair back and walks off toward third period.

            Seungcheol watches him for a moment, clutching his notebook to his chest, then calls, “Babe, wait!” and stumbles after him.

 

Across the hall, Seungkwan winces when the new kid almost gets whacked in the face by one of the arguing couple, but dodges it smoothly. He watches Jeonghan speaking at his boyfriend—Seungcheol, probably the second-best-looking guy here, or at least in his third period. Sometimes he wonders how and why someone as popular as Seungcheol puts up with something like Yoon Jeonghan.

            “Aren’t they interesting?” Seokmin says, coming up next to him. “They’re like, the perfect cliché high school couple.”

            Seungkwan snorts. “Cliché, definitely. Perfect…” He hums.

            Seokmin laughs, watching Jeonghan slam his locker and Seungcheol stumble after him down the hall. “Quarterback and the pretty one. If we had a cheer team, he’d be the captain.”

            “I guess you’re the theatre nerd then,” Seungkwan says. Seokmin smacks his arm. Seungkwan pouts and says, “What does that make me?”

            Seokmin tisks, chuckling. “Oh, you’re a lot of things, Boo Seungkwan.” He starts for the same doorway as Seungcheol.

            Seungkwan makes a face at his back. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

            “In denial, for one,” Seokmin calls over his shoulder.

            Seungkwan stops in his tracks, the first-best-looking guy flashing into his head before he shakes it away. He frowns and follows his best friend. “Yah. What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“He really is the bitch of the school, huh?” Youngmin says.

            Junhui watches Jeonghan at his locker, with Seungcheol—the “manly quarterback”—looking like a helpless puppy next to him. They’ve been like this since he can think of—at least for most of the three years he’s been here. They may have been different right at the beginning, but it’s hard to remember that now when Jeonghan makes their arguments so public.

            He nods and says, “I guess so.”

            “Or that one,” Dongho says, tilting his chin at Boo Seungkwan, who’s making an obvious face at the couple. “Can’t believe a nice guy like Seokmin is friends with him.”

            “You know you wouldn’t mess with him,” Youngmin says. “And this guy’s got a _class_ with the both of them.” He nudges Junhui’s arm.

            “Oh. Yeah,” Junhui says. He doesn’t really hear his friends keep talking because _he_ just walked by, heading from his locker to their classroom across the hall. He put on that jacket again—the brown suede one that fits him perfectly and looks so good and stylish when he just hooks it over his shoulders without putting his arms through. The color goes really well with his skin tone, too. One of his earrings catches light and glints in Junhui’s direction as he leans easily out of the way of Seungcheol’s arm and goes into the classroom. Junhui forgets to blink.

            “That kid again,” Youngmin says. “I think that jacket just dragged itself out of the seventies.”

            Junhui automatically says, “I know, right?” He blinks out of his stupor and clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m gonna be late for that class anyway.” Did he say anyway twice?

            Youngmin snorts. “Sure, man. See you at practice.”

            Junhui grabs his notebook, nearly dropping it, and shoves his locker closed to go to his third period room.

            He slows down as he reaches the doorway, walking in casually. Most of the class is here already, and he has lots of other places he could look, so it must be an accident when he looks directly at Xu Minghao over on the other side of the room. They meet eyes, and then Minghao calmly looks away like he didn’t even notice. Junhui swallows and goes in, walking between the couple still giving sharp versus pitiful looks at each other, passing the kid he’s never talked to but knows way too much about regarding what he does with other guys outside of class (and if it’s all true, Mingyu’s definitely earned his reputation as the school…flirt, to be PC about it), and takes his seat in the back left corner of the room.

            The dark loner kid is in his seat next to him, curled over his desk, drawing something in his notebook, his pencil half buried in the sleeve of his black sweater wrapped over his hand. He looks up at Junhui when he sits down, and smiles at him—a tiny curve of the corners of his lips. Junhui nods and swivels into his desk, dropping his backpack down. Jeon Wonwoo’s drawing catches his eye—a swirling shaded pattern covering almost the entire perimeter of his notebook page. It’s actually pretty impressive.

            Junhui glances diagonally across the room at Minghao again, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. Even the back of his hair is styled perfectly, looking soft and touchable from all the way over here. It’s not the first time Junhui has thought about running his fingers through it.

            His thoughts are interrupted when the American kid steps noisily up onto a desk at the front of the room.

 

Hansol sticks his hand out for a high five as he walks through the hallway to get to third period. His roommate catches it as he walks past, and Hansol grins and points at him before turning back to walk into class. He slings his backpack off his shoulder, holding it in his hand by the strap, and climbs up onto the still empty desk at the front next to Hong Jisoo, who’s looking up at him with half a smile and one eyebrow up.

            Hansol smiles at him before dropping his backpack forward next to his actual seat in the second row, desk-walks over it and to the next one back, and turns to thrust his hand down at Boo Seungkwan. “Dance with me, Boo,” he says through his grin.

            Seungkwan looks up at him with tightly crossed arms and wide eyes. “Wow, this—every Wednesday! You really are crazy.” Next to him, Seokmin laughs and tries to hide it. Hansol can see that Seungkwan would punch him if he didn’t have to turn away. He can also see the pink blush on the apples of Seungkwan’s cheeks.

            Hansol smiles gently down at him. “You’ll have to accept my offer one day, Seungkwan.” He wiggles his fingers. “Come on.”

            “Get down, man,” a student says from the back row behind Seungkwan.

            Hansol looks over at Lee Jihoon’s uninterested gaze. He lowers his hand and bows his head a little. “Sorry,” he says, still smiling. He gets down from the desk, takes a quick glance at Jeon Wonwoo’s notebook and says, “Awesome, dude.” He puts his fist out.

            Wonwoo returns with the most sweater-soft fist bump ever.

            Hansol laughs gently and turns, smiling again at Seungkwan’s big eyes and Seokmin’s knowing snicker before going back to his second-row seat. To his left, Yoon Jeonghan throws him a _weirdo_ look before turning back, clearly avoiding the gaze of his whipped as hell boyfriend.

            In front of Hansol, Hong Jisoo is chatting easily with the starstruck-looking genius freshman.

            In the front right corner, Kwon Soonyoung’s desk is empty as it is at least forty percent of the time, he calculates.

            If he turned around, Kim Mingyu would be primping his bangs up over his forehead, maintaining his hair before it likely gets ruined later by Lee Minhyuk or one of the many other takers.

            And if he looked just a little further back at Wen Junhui in the opposite corner, he’d almost certainly see enough pine to start a fire in his gaze over at Xu Minghao.

            Boy, does Hansol love school.

            He faces forward and props one ankle over the other knee, leaning back and smiling at their teacher as he walks in, closing the door to third period world history.

 

“All right, everyone. Good morning,” Mr. Han says to them, quieting them down. He puts his bag on his desk and pulls out the attendance sheet. “Jihoon?”

            Jihoon raises his hand.

            “Hansol?”

            Hansol raises his hand and says, “Here.”

            “Junhui?”

            “Here.” Junhui waits in his chair, watching Seokmin whisper something to Seungkwan and Seungkwan glare at him and shove his shoulder before leaning back in his seat and looking in Hansol’s direction again. In front of Junhui two rows up, Seungcheol is digging a pen out of his backpack already, raising his hand up when his name is called.

            “Minghao?”

            Junhui looks over at him, raising his hand halfway up before crossing his arms again. Is he cold? Junhui thinks that he would offer his jacket if Minghao wasn’t already wearing one. And if he had the balls to ever talk to Minghao anyway. It’s been more than two weeks of this year now, and his secret crush isn’t exactly lightening up with time. Maybe he’s creepy, watching Minghao in the hallway, the lunchroom, this class they share. But he’s nervous when Minghao comes around, and it breaks his usually cool exterior that he has around his friends and that the school knows him by. He’s starting to think that he’s intimidated by Minghao’s even cooler attitude. But it’s a different kind of cool—an easy, almost apathetic cool instead of that typical high school popular prep guy thing that Junhui has.

            And how could he ever do anything anyway? His crush is secret for a reason. Minghao is the transfer kid, the one everyone calls weird because of that attitude he has. And Junhui is popular, the star player and captain of lacrosse, the one with lots of friends (at least in his other classes) and who throws parties on holidays. What would it look like if Junhui was dating Minghao? It would be a joke to most people, and Junhui doesn’t know if he can throw away an earned reputation like that. He knows it’s stupid and dramatic, but dating Minghao would change his whole life here at the school. He doesn’t know how he’d handle it.

            Besides, Minghao would probably never want to talk to the likes of him anyway—he’s not smart enough or artsy enough. He just plays lacrosse.

            Minghao runs his hand through his hair, and Junhui sucks in his lower lip.

            “Mingyu?” Mr. Han says.

            Mingyu raises his hand all the way up, smiling at him.

            “And—Soon…” Mr. Han trails off. He looks at the empty corner seat and sighs. “Of course. If I didn’t know where that boy was I might be a little more upset.” He tisks. “All right. Get your notes out from yesterday, everyone.”

            His notes already open while everyone else rustles, Seungcheol holds a piece of paper out to Jeonghan. Jeonghan looks at it, then looks at Seungcheol, then rolls his eyes and uncrosses his arms to take it. He opens the note and reads:

 

_I’m sorry baby <3_

He squints at Seungcheol again, then tears the paper in half.

            “What are some of the events,” Mr. Han says, writing on the board, “that incited the French Revolution?” He underlines the two words at the top of the board and turns to the students.

            Mingyu raises his hand. “There was the first, second, and third estates.”

            Mr. Han nods at him, seeming to wait for more. When Mingyu doesn’t continue he says, “Can anyone elaborate?”

            Chan raises his hand, and Mr. Han calls on him. “The three estates were the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners—the laypeople, if you will. The clergy and the nobility owned a greater percentage of land than their population percentage, while the commoners were the other way around.”

            “Good,” Mr. Han says, then points to Jisoo with his hand raised.

            “And the clergy paid no taxes,” Jisoo says, “the nobility only two percent taxes, while the commoners paid the full remaining ninety-eight percent.”

            Mr. Han nods. “Very good. Can someone tell me about the Estates General?” Chan raises his hand. “Besides Chan. Or Jisoo.” Jisoo lowers his hand from where it was halfway up. Mr. Han sighs. “Come on, gentlemen, we do this every day. Anyone?”

            Seungkwan thinks about raising his hand, but the train of thought with the answer onboard leaves as he watches Hansol chew his pen. His lips are so _thin_ —American boy’s lips for sure. So weird and unattractive that Seungkwan finds he just can’t look away.

            “Your gay is showing,” Seokmin whispers.

            Seungkwan throws him a look. “What? It’s gross. I bet it’s got teeth marks all over it now. And spit.”

            “Spit that you would gladly have in—”

            “ _Shut up_.” He huffs and crosses his arms again. “You’re so predictable.”

            “Ditto.”

            Minghao raises his hand, and it draws Hansol’s attention. He turns his head, presenting his profile, pen still in his mouth. Seungkwan breathes in, eyes on Hansol’s jawline.

            And then Hansol’s eyes flick to the right and catch Seungkwan’s gaze. He takes the pen from his lips and smiles.

            Seungkwan feels his face heat up and quickly looks down. Under his breath, he mutters, “Don’t even start.”

            Seokmin smiles next to him.

            “It was a regular meeting of the three estates on important political issues,” Minghao begins. “But since it wasn’t a headcount vote, the first and second estates—the clergy and the nobility—always outvoted the third. Eventually, they locked them out entirely…”

            Junhui listens to him. From back here he can still notice that piece of hair that’s fallen in his face—the same one that always does that, almost every day. Minghao won’t brush it back until he’s finished speaking.

            Junhui shifts his hand on his desk, and his pencil goes rolling to the floor.

            Wonwoo turns to look and, seeing Junhui didn’t notice, plucks it off the floor and places it back on Junhui’s desk. Junhui doesn’t notice that either, staring off at the cool boy that sits in the corner at the front. Wonwoo wonders a lot if Junhui’s ever going to talk to him so they can start dating. It would be cute if they did—they’d make a handsome couple, and they probably wouldn’t fight all the time like Jeonghan who’s clearly stuck in a bad place unsure what to do, and Seungcheol who’s clearly too in love to see the problem himself.

            Wonwoo turns to face forward again and Mingyu, who sits right in front of him, is turned fully to face him, smiling in that way he smiles at other boys like Lee Minhyuk. Wonwoo blinks through his bangs, and Mingyu’s gaze drops to the new drawing on Wonwoo’s notebook page: a faceless king with an intricate jeweled crown. He looks back up and winks at Wonwoo before turning back around.

            Wonwoo adjusts his glasses on his nose, pulls his notebook closer to himself, and covers it with his arm before hunching over it again to keep drawing.

            “But this was during the Enlightenment period,” Minghao says, “and once those ideas got into the heads of the commoners, they had a better understanding of how to handle the politics of their time.”

            “Stop,” Mr. Han says. “Very good. Someone else continue.”

            Seokmin raises his hand and says, “The commoners kicked the king out of his position.”

            Mr. Han tilts his head and says, “Essentially. And this means…?”

            Without raising his hand or looking up from his notes, Jihoon says, “The fall of the monarchy.”

            Mr. Han nods. “Very good. You’ll need to know that as well as what’s in your textbooks on that chapter for tomorrow’s test. We’ll work for half of today’s class and then we’ll test review, yes? So let’s talk about the Revolution itself. Has anyone ever heard of a guillotine?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN if you haven’t looked at the intro page for this please do, you’ll be so confused about some stuff if you don’t.  
> 


	3. XMH: That Kid and the Mad Scientist

_11:30 am_

Minghao bows to Mr. Han before leaving the classroom to get to his locker. He stayed behind to ask a few questions about tomorrow’s test, and now the hallways are pretty much cleared as everyone’s back in the courtyard or in the cafeteria for lunch. He figures he’ll just grab his food from his locker and take it into fourth period where his teacher usually lets him study in peace away from the other kids.

            He puts his jacket back in his locker and grabs his box lunch, appreciating the quiet. When you have no friends, it’s at least nice to not be surrounded by those people who do. He shuts his locker and twists the combination dial, then starts down the hallway. He bows to a teacher, and a few moments later starts to round a corner toward the hall for his fourth period room and—

            He stops. He backtracks, leaning back and peering around the corner to try to figure out what just made that noise. A gentle, single pulse of sound—like a soft mini explosion. He figured the teacher must have dropped something, but nobody is in the hallway.

            His eyebrows go down and he heads back down the hall. He glances in the little windows on the doors, trying to see anything, and finally he comes upon the door to one of the science lab rooms. Looking into the window, his brows go back up.

            He opens the door and steps halfway in. “Is everything all right?”

            A hand waves through the cloud of white dust hanging in the air. As it clears, Minghao can see a face covered in white, big goggles impossible to see through anymore, bleached hair in a wild puff. He can’t help but smile at the fact that Kwon Soonyoung looks like an actual mad scientist.

            Soonyoung rips his goggles off, leaving a clean cutout in their shape around his eyes like a cookie picked up after powdered sugar, the rest of him covered in the dust. “Dude! Did you see that?”

            Minghao chuckles. “Sorry, just missed it. But I heard it out in the hall.”

            Soonyoung’s eyes widen as the dust starts to settle around him on the table and floor, and his white lips form a little O. “Crap. Did anyone else hear?”

            Minghao shakes his head. “Not that I can tell. It sounded like it looks.”

            Soonyoung tilts his head. “How’s that?”

            Minghao shrugs and says, “Poofy.”

            Soonyoung breaks into a funny toothy grin. “Awesome. Well, get in here, Hao. Let me explain it to you.” He waves his hand in, standing up from the table.

            Minghao hesitates. Soonyoung called him Hao…which means one, he knows his name—understandably, since he sits in front of him in third period, when he actually shows up—and two, he turned it into a nickname too. It’s a weird feeling, having someone talk to him like that. A good feeling.

            He clears his throat and goes to the table, stepping through white on the floor. “It’s dust?” he asks.

            “Part dust, part foam,” Soonyoung says, stripping off his lab coat and tossing it into a bin, revealing a slogan t-shirt with _have a good time_ written in a box. He goes to the sink and wets a paper towel, wiping off the stuff from at least most of his face. “Liquid nitrogen and hot water. It doesn’t sound as cool when it’s ingredients like that, but I kind of just wanted something to explode.” He laughs and chucks the paper towel in the trash.

            Minghao sees the metal beaker Soonyoung used on the table, and near to it a mesh grating, like a colander. “And that makes dust? What’s this for?” He picks up the mesh, slightly cold to the touch.

            Soonyoung grins. “That’s the dust part. The nitrogen and water just make a sort of foamy mist. But because I felt like it, I put that over the beaker, rimmed with corn starch.”

            Minghao chuckles and nods. “Hence the cloud.”

            “You got it. Stupid of me to lean right over it. Or maybe I wanted to.” He giggles.

            Minghao smiles at his laugh. “Is this why you’re not in class all the time?” he asks.

            “Yeah.” Soonyoung shrugs. “Mr. Han knows, though. Since he knows I’m in here because science is my thing and he likes when kids have a passion for learning, we have a sort of silent agreement that it’s okay as long as I can maintain a C-plus or higher in history and I don’t get caught by any of the other teachers during class. Speaking of—would you mind helping me clean up this mess so I don’t get detention?”

            Minghao laughs gently, understanding how it might be hard to refuse Soonyoung anything. “Sure, Soonyoung.”

            Soonyoung grins again and punches his shoulder. “Ah, you’re awesome, thanks a lot.”

            Minghao blinks at him as he turns to the cabinets. He hasn’t had someone be nice like this to him since he arrived here. Even at his old school, he still didn’t have many friends, and the few he did have weren’t all that close. For some reason, he has a feeling that Soonyoung might actually be legit. Maybe he was lucky that he stayed behind after class today.

            They grab a few rags from under the sink, wetting them to start mopping up the corn starch dust.

            “You’re a transfer, right?” Soonyoung asks, wiping down the table and beaker.

            Minghao thinks that if anyone else had asked, he’d already be on guard. But Soonyoung asks with nothing but curiosity in his voice. “Yeah,” Minghao says, rinsing the corn starch mesh and drying it off for Soonyoung to put away. “I came from a school a few hours away from here when my dad moved for his job.”

            “Treating you like shit so far, eh?”

            Minghao pauses, turning to look at Soonyoung. “How did you ever guess?”

            Soonyoung snorts. “I don’t think I’ve heard you speak one word outside of answering a question in class. And I have fourth period English with you, you know. I sit in the very back.”

            Minghao blinks at him. Now that actually he thinks about it, he does remember seeing Soonyoung walk in the door a few times. Their teacher never takes roll out loud, so he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Soonyoung’s name get called. And he’s just never put two and two together. “Damn, you’re right. I guess I never realized.”

            “Sharp focus,” Soonyoung says, squinting his eyes at nothing and thrusting out a flat hand. “Let me guess—straight A’s?” Minghao nods. Soonyoung nods back. “Uh huh. Bad news—I think you’re a model student, Minghao.”

            Minghao laughs and shakes his head. “It’s a straightforward life.”

            “Can I take another guess?” Soonyoung asks. Minghao waves his hand as a go. Soonyoung points his rag at him. “Single dorm?”

            Minghao hums. “Yup. Good observation.”

            “Lucky,” Soonyoung says, putting away the beaker. “I shouldn’t complain, though. My roommate’s a cool dude. I think he’s the only person I’ve met who’s as loud as I am. We’ve gotten complaints about screaming from the guys next to us. You know Hoseok? Senior?”

            Minghao shrugs one shoulder and shakes his head. “I know nobody.”

            Soonyoung clicks his tongue. “Same.”

            Minghao makes a face. “Lie?”

            Soonyoung tosses his rag into the bin where his coat went and Minghao follows suit. “Nah. I get along with anyone I meet,” Soonyoung says, “but I don’t _know_ anyone, you know? I mean, I’ve got my few friends who I love. I met some freshmen this year who are like my little twin brothers. Jisung and Jaemin. They do this science stuff with me after school. Hey—” His eyes widen again and glint when he looks at Minghao. “You should meet us tomorrow for chemistry club.”

            Minghao tilts his head. “I haven’t heard of chemistry club.”

            Soonyoung’s lower lip sticks out briefly. “Well…it’s not technically a _real_ club. But whatever. We do it anyway. It’s fun—you should check it out. The labs are chock full of shit we can throw into a bowl and see what happens. We do this kind of stuff and lots of other stuff too. That makes it sound lame but it’s not. It’s just us but you know what they say—four heads are better than three.”

            Minghao laughs again, going to his box lunch on the table and tapping at the edges. “Science isn’t my forté.”

            “Dude, I’m pretty sure everything is your forté.” Soonyoung smiles and nods at Minghao’s lunch. “You can eat in here if you want.”

            Minghao lifts an eyebrow and turns to look at the sign above the door that says NO FOOD OR DRINK ALLOWED IN THE LAB. He turns back and looks at Soonyoung.

            Soonyoung shrugs again. “Stick it to the man? Or just don’t spill.”

            Minghao sits down at the table and pops the lid off his food. “You’re telling me.”

            Soonyoung grins and sits down with him.


	4. CSC: The Quarterback and His Fallen Angel

_11:40 am_

One of the benefits of being the quarterback and captain of the football team is that Seungcheol knows the exact schedules of the two campus locker rooms, which gives him the advantage of knowing when and how long each of them will be empty, and what kind of traffic is happening around them. Which is why, when Jeonghan confronted him after third period about their fight this morning over just exactly _why_ Seungcheol had forgotten to send him that powerpoint last night ( _It’s due in a month!_ Seungcheol had said. _I just forgot!_ And Jeonghan had said _Well maybe I’ll_ forget _to help you with pre-calc for your exam all next week or_ forget _to let you touch me for a month until that assignment is done._ And he had stalked off to class where Seungcheol had tried to give him a note, tried to say he was sorry, blah blah…), Seungcheol knew it would be safe when Jeonghan started stalking off this time into the upperclassmen locker room, dragging Seungcheol by the open edge of his letterman jacket.

            And also why he figures it’s okay that Jeonghan is being way too loud right now, like always. Probably okay. Hopefully.

            “You’re so fucking stupid, Seungcheol!” Jeonghan shouts. His voice reverberates around the tilted shower room off the wall in front of him where his palms are pressed to hold himself up lest Seungcheol knock him over from behind.

            Seungcheol is used to Jeonghan’s insults by now. Probably a lot more used to them than he should be. He’s used to the fights, the shouting, the inevitable, typical, anticlimactic (though usually quite climactic, in a different sense) ending like the one they’re in right now, which won’t be over until Jeonghan is done. Not necessarily Seungcheol—he learned that last year when Jeonghan left him in the vacant nurse’s office literally with his pants down after he had just shoved him down on the shaky cot, climbed on him, and done whatever he needed before walking back out, tying his hair up in a perfect ponytail as he went. It took Seungcheol more time to figure out if he should try and finish or just deal with the worst blue balls ever and get out before someone found him than to actually do either one. Luckily, he wasn’t caught, and Jeonghan was peacefully waiting for him in their next class like nothing had ever happened—the fight, the sex, nothing. That’s how it always is with him, and Seungcheol is _so_ used to it. But that doesn’t mean he likes it. But he loves Jeonghan so…does he really have any choice?

            Seungcheol groans in frustration and tightens his grip on Jeonghan’s hips, pulling them back towards his own. “Cause you’re always so confusing and it messes with my brain!”

            Jeonghan huffs and flips his hair over one shoulder. “It’s the other way around, you idiot. You were already dumb before.”

            It’s not exactly that it hurts Seungcheol’s feelings, it’s just that he wishes Jeonghan didn’t feel that way about him. He’s not really sure if Jeonghan does or doesn’t mean the things he says. It’s certainly no less than upsetting, but for Jeonghan, he tries to never show it.

            He pushes his hips hard. “Stop being so mean!”

            “Stop doing stupid shit!”

            Seungcheol says on some terrible impulse, “God, why are you being such a _bitch_?”

            Jeonghan gasps. He reaches behind himself and shoves Seungcheol back and out of him, whipping around, hair sticking to his face, totally livid.

            Oh fuck. Seungcheol’s really done it now. Why did he say that? Because it’s true. But he didn’t mean to say it—he didn’t mean to insult Jeonghan that way. If they could just stop fighting _all the time_ and if Jeonghan would just stop saying these things to him and overreacting to small things and making his brain go all lopsided in his head making him say stupid things like this then maybe they could just be happy like they were before.

            But he can’t take it back. He has _seriously_ done it now. If Jeonghan’s face got any redder it’d be the same color as his dick, and the anger in his glare shows through the strands of hair crossing over his eyes and clinging to his cheeks. He breathes heavily, partially from Seungcheol, mostly from fury. Seungcheol has only ever seen Jeonghan this mad a few other times, but this is probably the worst.

            “What did you just say?” Jeonghan asks in a scary whisper.

            Seungcheol shrinks, wishing he could cover up and run from his boyfriend. “I’m sorry—I just—”

            “Don’t _ever_ call me a bitch.”

            Seungcheol breathes uneasily, looking down at the floor. “Han—”

            “That’s not fucking okay, Seungcheol!”

            Seungcheol whines in his throat like a puppy being yelled at by its master. “Well I—I’m sorry but you’re being one.”

            Jeonghan squints his eyes and tilts his head, completely confident like he isn’t standing there naked in the middle of a short hiatus from getting fucked. “Oh, am I? Only because you’re always the dumb jock everyone thinks you are. It’s hard for me to deal with someone like you all the time. You make my head hurt.” He prods a finger at his temple.

            Seungcheol puts his hands out. “Y—well—you make mine, Jeonghan! And I’m sorry!”

            Jeonghan flings his hands up. “Stop saying that!”

            “Well I feel bad and I love you and I don’t want you to be this upset!” Seungcheol yells back with wide eyes.

            Jeonghan shoves his hair back and shrieks, “ _Just fuck me!_ ”

            So Seungcheol does. He always does whatever Jeonghan tells him to do. He steps forward and grabs Jeonghan roughly and picks him up in one motion, pressing his back up against the wall and pushing hard back into him.

            Jeonghan moans loudly, _so_ loud, one of those moans that really surprised Seungcheol when they first met and were first intimate together, and Seungcheol wonders if maybe his timing on the locker room was off. Paranoia, hopefully. He puts his face close to Jeonghan’s and says, “Quieter, baby.”

            Jeonghan snaps back, in a breathy voice he’s trying to keep from sounding too fucked out, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

            Seungcheol laughs, then groans when Jeonghan’s nails bite deep into his back. “Ouch. I really hate you sometimes, babe.”

            Jeonghan gives a beautiful grin. “Not as much as I hate you.”

            Seungcheol kisses him heavily, and Jeonghan wraps his arms over his broad shoulders.

            And Seungcheol feels a little better, but he knows it’s his own heart trying to kid him. This happens. They get out what they’re going to yell at each other and then it’s almost like it never happened. At least, for Jeonghan it is. Seungcheol still remembers the things Jeonghan says to him, the words he calls him. He’s not holding a grudge—couldn’t possibly against Jeonghan—but it’s just hard to forget when it comes from someone he loves so much. But talking doesn’t work, and Jeonghan only ever seems to want to finish it with this kind of thing anyway, so what can he do?

            At least Jeonghan is kissing him with meaning. He’ll admit this is his favorite part of their countless make-ups.

            He tastes Jeonghan for a while more, breathing in his noises, and then says, “I’m sorry I called you a bitch.”

            “You meant it,” Jeonghan says.

            Well, if there’s one thing Seungcheol doesn’t do, it’s lie to Jeonghan. “Yeah, I did.”

            “I know I am.”

            Jeonghan does this too—he says that he knows he’s mean, knows he’s annoying, knows he overreacts to little things that sometimes can’t even be considered mistakes on Seungcheol’s part. But it doesn’t change the fact that it still keeps happening anyway, no matter how much Jeonghan says he’s admitting his faults.

            Seungcheol says, “But I love you.”

            Jeonghan sighs and shakes his head, kissing Seungcheol again. “You fuck better when you’re not talking. I love you too.”

            And that’s the last thing Jeonghan does— _always_ tells Seungcheol he loves him. And that, Seungcheol believes. He smiles against Jeonghan’s lips. “You were supposed to say, not as much as I—”

            “Just stop talking, Seungcheol.”

            Seungcheol sighs quietly. Isn’t this always how it goes? “Yes, Hannie,” he says. He hikes Jeonghan up further and pushes deep as he comes back down, and Jeonghan gasps, letting his head tilt back, hair falling from his shoulders and swaying between him and the wall. Seungcheol looks at his soft brown hair, his sharp yet dainty jawline, his neck glistening with sweat, his pretty pale skin blooming with faint red watercolor blotches on his chest from sex. Jeonghan has always been the most beautiful thing Seungcheol has ever seen. Angelic is the least on his list of words to describe him. Maybe that’s why he acts this way—maybe Jeonghan knows Seungcheol could never give up someone who looks that good. But Seungcheol loves other things about him too. Lots of things. But Jeonghan probably knows that too. Jeonghan holds Seungcheol in the palm of his hand.

            “Hannie,” he says again, and he doesn’t know why. He leans forward and kisses Jeonghan’s neck, pushing as deep as he can go.

            Jeonghan holds him tight, and he starts mewling at the ceiling, whines mixed with swears mixed with moans that get a little louder as he tightens around Seungcheol and comes between them. This time, Seungcheol finishes too, breathing in the clean, sweet smell of Jeonghan’s skin. Jeonghan’s moans fade down into lighter sounds, and his arms soften on Seungcheol’s back, nails leaving crescents in their wake on his shoulderblades.

            And then he starts to laugh, and Seungcheol leans away from his neck and swallows hard and lessens his grip on him. Jeonghan puts his legs down and steps away from Seungcheol. He just laughs quietly for a moment, not looking at Seungcheol, and then smiles at him. “Thanks, babe.”

            Seungcheol can only nod.

            Jeonghan hums, seemingly content, like he always is when he gets what he wants. “It’s nice like this at the end, hm? Together.”

            Seungcheol wants to say yes, how much he wants to skip class the rest of the day with Jeonghan and go back to his dorm and cuddle with him and make him tea—the kinds of sappy romantic things that he used to say because he really meant them. But all he can think is, _Then why do you leave me half the time? Why do we fight like this? Why is this the only way we’re intimate anymore? If you’d let me love you right it could end better than this, every time. Just let me._ But all he ever does is feed into Jeonghan’s ways, the ultimate enabler, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He just wants Jeonghan to be happy. He wants freshman year when they first met—their long days together, their fun nothing dates, their eating together and laughing at lunch, their nights in one of their dorms where they would just watch a movie and kiss and not worry about anything else besides getting in trouble for breaking curfew. All of that, he wants back, like they used to.

            But Jeonghan is different now than he was back then. Something changed. And yet, even if this is all that’s left of the old Jeonghan, Seungcheol would never give him up, or give up on him.

            He only says, “You look pretty, Hannie.”

            Jeonghan smiles cutely and brushes his hair back from his face in the way he knows Seungcheol has always been unable to resist. “Thanks to you.” He kisses Seungcheol’s cheek and starts to leave the shower room to get his things, calling, “See you after final bell, babe. I’ll have that powerpoint by the end of the day, yes?”

            Seungcheol just watches him go, hands on his hips, slowing his breath. There’s no use in answering, or following him. If he walked out now, Jeonghan would somehow already be dressed and gone.

            That’s one more thing that’s always the same—the one thing Jeonghan doesn’t do. Jeonghan never apologizes.

            But Seungcheol is used to that too.


	5. BSK: Perfectly Sealed Box

DAY 22: HELLO

 

_11:40 am_

Seungkwan sits on a bench in the courtyard, sandwich still unbitten in his hands, watching Hansol and his friends messing with each other loudly over by a table. Hansol shouts and runs from his roommate, Hanbin, jumping up onto the bench and then the tabletop. He stands with his hands on his hips, saying something Seungkwan can’t hear.

            Why did Hansol have to wear ripped jeans today? It’s starting to get cold anyway—they’re kind of a stupid choice. And the contrast with the black makes his thighs look even paler. He’s always wondered what’s up with Hansol’s legs anyway. They bow out a little bit, giving his thighs a gap even when he stands with his feet together. Seungkwan stares at them, trying to figure it out.

            He only just notices when Hansol makes eye contact from fifteen meters away. Seungkwan blinks and looks to the side, telling himself that another of Hansol’s friends must be near him. When he looks back, Hansol is already stepping down from the table and coming toward him.

            “Hey, Seungkwan!”

            Great. Here they go again. This has been happening ever since something like their second week last year when they had three classes together at their parent high school, but it seems like it’s getting even worse these days since they got admitted here—Hansol annoying him any chance he gets, saying weird things to him like his shirt tag is out and fixing his hair without asking and _every single Wednesday_ saying that same, “Dance with me, Boo” at some point during the day, whether it’s in class or the hallways or at lunch like right now.

            But it’s not Wednesday, and Hansol never says it any other day. What does he want now?

            Hansol reaches him and smiles. “How many of them are shaking their heads at me?”

            Seungkwan lifts an eyebrow and leans a little to see Hansol’s friends, two of them shaking their heads while Hanbin blows a dramatic kiss in their direction. Well, at least it wasn’t anything vulgar.

            Seungkwan sighs and says, “Two, and your roommate is in love with you.”

            Hansol does that loud laugh like he always does, all of his teeth showing in his smile. “That’s too bad for him. He longs for a taken heart.”

            Seungkwan rolls his eyes and is about to say _What is this, Shakespeare?_ when Hansol grabs one of his hands off his sandwich and pulls him to his feet.

            Seungkwan stumbles up and glares at him. “What are you doing? I’m eating.”

            “We’re dancing.”

            Hanbin whistles over by the tables. Seungkwan frowns. “No we’re not.”

            Hansol grins. Like Professor McGonagall in _The Goblet of Fire_ he says in English, “Take. My waist.” He tugs Seungkwan a little closer.

            Seungkwan looks at Hansol, looks at his sandwich in his free hand, looks at one of Hansol’s friends making a gesture by his crotch, and decides that enough is enough. He drops his sandwich on the wrapper left on the bench, turns, and starts dragging a wide-eyed Hansol by his hand across the courtyard towards the auditorium doors, ignoring the whooping sounds Hansol’s friends make behind them.

            “Seungkwan—”

            “Enough,” Seungkwan says. He pulls Hansol all the way through the foyer and through the doors into the top of the empty auditorium. Only the lights down over the stage are on as he glares up at Hansol in the dim. “You have to stop this,” he says in a harsh whisper.

            Hansol smiles at him. “Come on, Seungkwan, it’s just for fun.”

            Seungkwan brings his hand to his forehead at how loud Hansol is speaking. “But why do you have to do it _all the time_? And it’s like you annoy me more than other people? Like, what are you even doing? Why do you torture me?”

            Hansol chuckles. “I’m sorry, Seungkwan.”

            Seungkwan widens his eyes at him, throwing his hands out at his sides. “And you’re still laughing! You can’t even be serious for one second like you’re so freaking stupid and you don’t even realize that this whole time you’ve been messing with me every day that I say those things to get your attention and you’re so frustrating and annoying and loud-mouthed and I _hate_ that I still can’t stop thinking about kissing you and I just wish you’d get out of just everything and just—ugh!” He stomps his heel and puts his hands on his head.

            Hansol stares at him. “What?”

            Seungkwan lowers his hands and glares at him again. “Oh, you didn’t listen to that either? Of course you didn’t—”

            “You want to kiss me?”

            Seungkwan freezes. Did he say that? He can’t remember half of what he just said. It all sort of rushed out at once. Did he finally let something slip that he’s going to regret starting probably right now? Where’s Seokmin to keep his mouth in check? Oh yeah. Play practice.

            He shakes his head. That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Hansol just asked him if he wants to kiss him and Seungkwan doesn’t know if he can lie or if he even wants to lie or what. He just does his usual frown at Hansol and says stiffly, “No. Why would I want that?”

            Hansol blinks at him. “You said so.”

            Seungkwan looks sideways. “No, I—I just—I was—”

            Hansol puts his hands atop Seungkwan’s shoulders and pulls him, and Seungkwan realizes that their lips are touching.

            A million things go through his head at once. Hansol is kissing him—but not really. Their mouths are together but Seungkwan isn’t even sure if his lips are even stuck out at all and this is _not_ how he imagined his first kiss would go and did he really say that he wanted to kiss Hansol because how could he possibly allow himself to slip up like that after over a year of being a perfectly sealed box and Hansol is _kissing him_ and—

            “Seungkwan?”

            Seungkwan jumps back, shoving Hansol at the same time. Hansol stumbles but catches his balance and watches Seungkwan turn red-faced toward Seokmin way down at the stage alone.

            “Hey man!” Hansol calls, waving a hand.

            “What’s up, Hansol?” Seokmin answers back. “Or should I be asking Seungkwan?”

            Seungkwan doesn’t think he’s ever been more flustered in his life. What is even happening? All he can think is _Auditorium. Stupid._ “Seokmin—he just—”

            “I think you both just,” Seokmin says. Even from all the way back here they can both see Seokmin’s knowing sunshine grin. “I’m glad this is finally happening. It took freaking forever.”

            Seungkwan is about to say _Nothing’s happening_ when Hansol interrupts with, “Yeah, it did. Maybe if he’d said something earlier.”

            Seungkwan starts to stammer out a reply, looking back and forth between Hansol and Seokmin, then realizes he has nothing he can say.

            Seokmin laughs. “Yeah. We’re about to start practice so if you guys could go suck faces somewhere else that’d be appreciated.”

            Now Seungkwan’s mouth drops open and even Hansol blushes a little. “Uh—yeah. Sorry, Seokmin,” Hansol says. “Have a good practice.” He lowers his voice and says to Seungkwan, “Come on, let’s go.”

            Seungkwan glares at him, hissing, “If you think I’m going to just come make out with you in a broom closet after this—”

            “I’m saying we should just leave the room so they can work, okay? I think we should talk.”

            Hansol looks at him calmly, eyebrows up a bit, and Seungkwan calms down a little, feeling his body relax. All of it just happened at once—all of what he doesn’t know if he’s been trying to avoid or prevent or encourage or _what_ over the past year and a few weeks just came bursting out at once. And Hansol just kissed him. A small part of the back of his mind wishes that it had been a better kiss, and that Seokmin hadn’t walked in, and he wants to lobotomize that part of his brain immediately before it gets him into trouble.

            He chews his lip and says softly, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I guess we should.”

            Hansol just smiles at him in that same kind way he always does when he’s not grinning, and he puts his hand out.

            Seungkwan looks at it and lifts an eyebrow at Hansol before walking past him through the auditorium doors.

            Hansol looks at his empty hand, then smiles bigger and follows Seungkwan out.


	6. KMG: Enter, The Flirt

_11:40 am_

Mingyu walks out of the lunch line carrying his tray, heading to his usual table with his friends. Minhyuk gives him his adorable massive grin when he walks up, and Mingyu gives him a cool smile back and sits next to him. “Hey, cutie.”

            Minhyuk leans his head against Mingyu’s shoulder briefly. “I saw you talking to Jisoo earlier.” He looks up at Mingyu. “Hm?”

            Mingyu gazes over at him. “New one?” he asks, brushing the back of his finger against the pendant on Minhyuk’s new choker. “I like it.”

            Minhyuk pouts out his lower lip. “Answer me.”

            Mingyu chuckles. Minhyuk is cute, no doubt, and he fucks like it’s his last time every time. But he can be super clingy, like they’re dating or something, even when he knows he and Mingyu are definitely not exclusive. Mingyu’s just in it all for the fun. Why not sleep with lots of people? Everyone is a unique experience in themselves. But he is thankful for Minhyuk in the sense that he’s always there if Mingyu will take him. He figures there’s no reason to give that up.

            Mingyu picks up his chopsticks and just smiles at him. “Buddy from third period.”

            Minhyuk laughs once. “He’s not friends with you. He just knows everyone and is a nice guy so you mooch his homework answers.” He adjusts his choker and says, “You’ve got a lot of weirdos in that class. That new transfer kid. Or him.” He flicks his hand off in some direction without even looking, and Mingyu follows it with his gaze.

            At a table at the edge of the room by the big windows, the boy who sits behind him in third period is eating lunch alone. Wonwoo’s black sweater sleeves are tucked up on his hands as per usual, one holding his chopsticks somehow with the tips of his fingers, the other wrapped around the apple juice box he’s nursing with full pink lips. As Mingyu watches, he shakes his head to move his bangs away from his eyes, and the straw slips out of his mouth. He keeps his eyes on the rice he’s poking at and finds the straw again with his lips.

            Mingyu tilts his head just a little bit. One corner of his mouth twitches upward.

            Minhyuk stares at him. “Ground control to Kim Mingyu.” He snaps his fingers.

            Mingyu looks at him again. “He sits behind me. He draws the whole class.”

            Minhyuk squints at him. “I guess that makes two people who can’t pay attention then.”

            Mingyu laughs. “Ah, don’t be like that. He’s weird. If there’s anyone you should be worried about, it’s Jisoo. I bet those lips of his would look _so_ good—”

            “Fuck you, Mingyu,” Minhyuk says, overturning Mingyu’s rice bowl into the rest of his food.

            Hyungwon and Changkyun sitting across from them laugh at him. Mingyu clicks his tongue and pushes it aside with his chopsticks. He says, “Gladly.”

            Minhyuk giggles and smiles at him.

            “We dare you,” Hyungwon says, tilting his head at Changkyun who has a smirk on his lips.

            Mingyu lifts an eyebrow at the challenge. “What? To go talk to him, right?”

            Hyungwon looks over at the boy in answer.

            Minhyuk scoffs and looks between Hyungwon and Mingyu. “You can’t be serious. What is this, a bad high school movie?”

            Mingyu looks at that juice box straw in Jeon Wonwoo’s lips again, then back at Hyungwon and Changkyun with an equal smirk and says, “You don’t have to dare me.”

            Minhyuk scoffs again as Mingyu gets up from his seat and crosses the lunchroom.

            He goes to the opposite side of Wonwoo’s table and plops down on the bench, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “Hey, cutie.”

            Wonwoo looks up first with his eyes and then with his head, the straw slipping from his lips again. “Me?”

            Mingyu smiles. “Yeah, you. Who else?”

            Wonwoo looks all around for a second, trying to figure out if maybe Mingyu mistook him for or is talking to someone else. “Why—you’re—”

            “We have history together, remember?” Mingyu says, looking at the way Wonwoo’s bangs fringe into his eyes, dark and sleek over his forehead, and the way his sweater paws pull his neckline down further and expose the beginnings of sharp collarbones. “You’re always in the back behind me all dark and mysterious. Kind of sexy, really.” He smiles innocently.

            Wonwoo looks at him, setting down his juice box. “You don’t mean that.”

            Mingyu laughs a little. “Sure I do.”

            “No you don’t.” Without looking over, keeping his eyes locked with Mingyu’s, Wonwoo says softly, “Your friends and your boyfriend are watching you which means you’re doing this to give them a show.”

            The smile fades from Mingyu’s lips. Stupidly, all that comes out of his mouth is a quiet, “He’s not my boyfriend…”

            Wonwoo doesn’t blink. “Please, Mingyu. If you don’t mean anything you say then just leave me alone like everyone else.”

            Mingyu’s lips part a little, trying to think of what to say. He finds it hard to look into Wonwoo’s eyes, yet even harder to look away. “I didn’t mean to…”

            Wonwoo’s gaze is somehow intense while still incredibly gentle, like his voice. “I know you didn’t. I’ll forget this if you won’t do it again. Goodbye, Mingyu.” He picks up his apple juice and takes another sip.

            Mingyu blinks at him for a second, then puts his hands on the table and slowly stands. He bows his head, unable to look into Wonwoo’s face anymore, and turns away.

            He starts back to his table, too confused and too shocked to even think that this never happens to him, and to wonder what’s really going on with the boy who sits behind him in third period. He wants to look back at Wonwoo again, but his friends are already giving him weird looks and Minhyuk is already glaring at him.

            He says nothing as he sits back down at their table. Minhyuk refuses to talk to him and scoots a little further away on the bench, but Mingyu hardly notices.

            “Did you _bow_?” Changkyun asks.

            Mingyu says, “Did I?” He finally gazes over at Wonwoo again.

            Hyungwon says, “Dude. He didn’t even move when he spoke to you. What the hell.”

            “Yeah,” Mingyu says too quietly, watching Wonwoo squeeze his juice box in his hand when it’s empty. “Weird.”


	7. BSK: They Talk About It

_11:50 am_

They walk silently to a vacant table further away from everyone else eating lunch outside, Seungkwan keeping his eyes on the concrete, Hansol trailing just behind him, seemingly unfazed by any discomfort. Seungkwan motions to the table and sits facing out, leaning his back against the top. Hansol sits close, but not too close.

            Neither of them says anything for a while until Hansol says, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

            Seungkwan doesn’t look at him. “Your friends were being gross.”

            Hansol sighs. “I know. They’re idiots. I’m sorry if they did anything rude. I’ve been trying to get them to stop and Hanbin’s cooled down to just teasing me about it but the others are just…dumb. They don’t mean any harm—they’re just messing with me. I’ve been trying to tell them that it probably makes you feel weird.” Seungkwan nods like that’s true. “I’m sorry,” Hansol says. “And I’m sorry for kissing you like that.”

            Seungkwan plays with his fingers in his lap. He knows Hansol isn’t like those guys anyway. He’s never done anything like that. His teasing is always clean and basically innocent. What harm is there in fixing his hair or asking him to dance, right? And about the kiss…

            “It was sudden,” he says.

            Hansol nods, looking over at him. “I know. Seungkwan, I don’t mean to sound…I don’t know. But you _did_ say you’ve thought about kissing me. And I shouldn’t have taken that as an excuse to kiss you because it isn’t, and I am sorry for assuming. But…have you really?”

            Seungkwan refuses to look up from his hands. If he did, he knows he’d see Hansol looking at him with those intense sparkly eyes with their long lashes, and that there would be true concern in them, along with a curiosity that Seungkwan tells himself he isn’t feeling too. He shrugs and says, “I don’t know.”

            Hansol nods again. “I guess maybe I should tell you that I have a huge crush on you. I have since last year. I’ve thought about kissing you more times than I can remember, if it means anything. And I know that I’m, like, really annoying sometimes and that’s just because I’m kind of stupid for you, you know? You do that to me. I just like you—”

            “Why?” Seungkwan says, finally looking up at him, trying to get him to stop.

            The corner of Hansol’s lips curves up gently, and he _does_ gaze into Seungkwan’s eyes that way, and Seungkwan finds that now that he’s looking, he can’t stop. “I don’t know,” Hansol says. “Just something about you. You’re smart and you’re good-looking and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially me. And you have great skin.”

            Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, wondering if Hansol is actually blind to the texture on his cheeks. “My skin?”

            “Yeah. You’re golden.”

            Seungkwan stifles a gulp. Why does that make him feel that way on the inside? “Oh. You don’t have to say that.”

            “It’s only true,” Hansol says, turning toward him on the bench. “So…why have you thought about kissing me?”

            Seungkwan blinks and manages to look away from Hansol’s face again, shrugging. “I don’t know. Just did, I guess,” he says, unsure if even he knows the answer to that.

            But that’s a lie. He knows why. Hansol just said it to him; the answer is those same words in return: _I just like you_. But there’s no way Seungkwan is going to say that. Not yet, anyway. He doesn’t know where any of it came from, so he isn’t going to acknowledge its presence just yet.

            Hansol only nods again. “Okay. Well, I am glad this happened.”

            Seungkwan nods a little at the ground.

            “As long as I didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

            Seungkwan shakes his head a little at the ground.

            “Would you want it to happen again?” Hansol asks.

            Seungkwan feels his heart flip. He looks up at Hansol again. “Are you asking to kiss me again?”

            Hansol tilts his head. “Not necessarily. If you want that, I will. But I’m only asking if…if this is a thing or not. Us.”

            “Us,” Seungkwan repeats. He sighs and looks back at his hands. “I don’t know yet.”

            Hansol nods. “That’s okay. It’s not like I know what I’m doing anyway. Do you want to try to see if it could be a thing? Or would you rather just leave it? And I’ll stop bugging you forever.” He places his hand over his chest like that’s a promise.

            No. Seungkwan doesn’t want to leave it. As much as he wishes he could say he did, he knows he’d be lying to himself. And he knows that even though it’s completely idiotic, he doesn’t want Hansol to stop bugging him either. Maybe he’s stupid for Hansol too.

            Hansol’s attention is something he doesn’t want to admit that he craves. He knows he wants this—this “us” that Hansol is suggesting—but he’s too afraid and too prideful to let himself be okay with it.

            He swallows and says, “We could just see how it goes.”

            Hansol smiles. “Yeah?”

            Seungkwan shrugs and nods.

            From the corner of his eye, Seungkwan can see Hansol’s hands restrain themselves from making fists in an excited gesture of long awaited victory. Hansol says, “Okay. Yeah. Don’t worry—we don’t have to give it any sort of label right now or ever if you don’t want to. But can I take you somewhere to test it out?”

            Seungkwan looks at Hansol’s smile. “You mean a date?”

            Hansol shrugs. “If you’d like to call it that, so would I.”

            Seungkwan wants to just close his eyes and lie down. Hansol is too nice. He could just say yes, obviously a date, that he wants Seungkwan, or that Seungkwan is obviously his boyfriend and they’re dating now, but he’s not. He’s giving Seungkwan every choice in the matter, putting his own opinions and feelings aside, seemingly wanting to make Seungkwan as comfortable as possible. Did Seungkwan know Hansol was going to be like this?

            “Where would we go?” he asks.

            Hansol’s pretty eyebrows go down. “Mmm…there’s a game soon, isn’t there? Football game?”

            Seungkwan scrunches his nose. “That’s not really my thing.”

            “Me either,” Hansol says. “But it’s on campus and free and I’d like to go with _you_ , I think. What if I promise you a milkshake?”

            Seungkwan eyes him for a second. He doesn’t exactly want to go to a football game—definitely not his style. But he’s not going to lie to himself and say that he doesn’t want to go really anywhere with Hansol. He supposes it’ll be okay. And a milkshake sounds great—especially one from him. Maybe they’ll share it.

            He says, “Fine.”

            Hansol grins. “Great. I knew that would work.”

            “Yeah, well…whatever,” Seungkwan says.

            “And,” Hansol says. He touches Seungkwan’s arm gently. “Please let my buy you more lunch.”

            “Fine,” Seungkwan mutters, trying not to think about Hansol’s hand on him.


	8. HJS/LC: Protégé

DAY 31: CHANGE UP

 

_6:25 pm_

“You know, you really must be a smart kid, Chan,” Jisoo says, taking the last few steps into the announcer’s box at the top of the bleachers at the football field. He opens the door and motions Chan through.

            Chan bows a little and goes in, taking one of the two seats in front of the microphone. “Um—I try my best and work hard.”

            Jisoo shuts the door and sits next to him, flicking some switches that Chan doesn’t even know the functions of. “That’s really great. Better to start out strong than realize halfway through that you’re screwed and try to pick up the pieces. That’s what happened to me my first year here. This one’s for the scoreboard,” he says, tapping another button.

            Chan looks out the windows and sees the scoreboard fill with red zeros. “Ah. Did you really though? You’re such a good student now.”

            Jisoo smiles at him. “I do my best and work hard.” Chan smiles back and laughs a little. “This academy was just harder than I expected is all. Once you get used to it, it’s not so bad. But you’re doing well, Chan—one of only three freshmen in a sophomore-junior class.”

            Chan nods, thinking of their history class together. “Yeah. I’m in four sophomore classes this year. Aren’t you a senior, hyung?” He immediately brings a hand over his mouth and stands to bow at Jisoo. “I’m sorry. That was disrespectful.”

            Jisoo chuckles and waves him into his seat. “I’m making up the one class because of my student body stuff the past three years. Otherwise I’m in my proper grade. No worries.”

            Chan sighs heavily. “I guess that’s why you’re doing so well then. History class must be easy for you.”

            “You too,” Jisoo says, eyebrows up. “You know the answer to every question.”

            Chan shrugs. “I’m not very good at history.”

            “Well, then I admire your work ethic.”

            Chan smiles again, cheeks turning pink, and looks down, hands in his lap.

            Jisoo tilts his head at him. “Why are you so shy suddenly? Are you nervous about announcing? Don’t be. You, like, already know everyone and they love you.”

            Chan blinks up at him. “I’m not. Not about that. I just…I look up to you, hyung. I want to be like you when I’m a senior.”

            Jisoo can’t help another smile. Would it be wrong to call Chan his protégé? “You’re well on your way, Chan. It pays to have a little focus and determination. I swear—half the guys here are more focused on parties, sports, each other, pretty much anything but school. And it’s good to not only care about grades, but you’ve gotta have some balance, you know? Like this.” He motions to the microphone, then shrugs. “I guess we’re the odd two out, huh?”

            Chan grins. “I guess so, hyung.”

            Jisoo turns the microphone a little closer to Chan. “It’s just turned six-thirty. You want to start it off?”


	9. WJH: The Prep Shows His Sleeves

_6:45 pm_

Junhui finds space on the bleachers for four and sits down, pulling out his phone. He sends a quick _Where are you_ text to Youngmin and puts his phone in his pocket, watching as a play in the football game is made. It sounds like Lee Chan is announcing today. Word was going around that it’s the first time a freshman has ever gotten to be an announcer. Junhui thinks it’s pretty cool that he got the job, and he isn’t really surprised, considering Chan is probably one of the smartest kids here, or at least in the one class they share.

            Choi Seungcheol picks himself up off the ground with the ball tucked in his elbow and high fives who Junhui is pretty sure is his roommate—another muscly guy named Jackson, number 7. Junhui isn’t too familiar with football, but it looks like they gained ten or twelve yards, and the audience around him is clapping gently, so he does too.

            Wait. He leans forward a little and looks off to his right past a group of boys all wearing long-sleeved t-shirts in baby blue, their school color. He swallows dryly when he sees Minghao, sitting alone on the bleachers, reading a cinderblock of a book, rubbing one arm in his short-sleeved shirt.

            _Don’t you know you get cold easily?_ Junhui thinks. And then he thinks about his letterman jacket that he has on and how many times he’s thought of offering it to Minghao. But…that would mean he has to actually _talk_ to Minghao, and that’s something he’s never done before. But looking at Minghao shivering like that doesn’t feel any better than his nerves. Will he lose the seats? Well, whatever. He’s sure his friends won’t mind asking people to move for them when they get here. Maybe if he just went over there, gave Minghao the jacket, and came back before his friends got here, everything would be okay. Right? That doesn’t mean anything—just a kind gesture—and if his friends don’t see him talking to Minghao then they won’t have anything to berate him about.

            Right?

            He hardly believes it himself when he stands from his seat and starts excusing his way past other students toward Xu Minghao.

            He steps over a bunch of people, waving quickly to a few who call his name out, and goes down two levels before reaching Minghao and standing awkwardly over him. He’s not really sure how to start, so he just says, “You’re cold.”

            Minghao looks up at him, and Junhui notices that earring that glinted at him the other day—a figure eight on a chain that’s strung through it, swinging gently when Minghao moves. That one, and at least four other earrings Minghao has between the two sides.

            If Junhui wore earrings like that, his friends would probably call him gay.

            “I left my jacket at my dorm,” Minghao says simply.

            Junhui’s blood pumps a little faster at hearing Minghao’s voice this close up, at seeing Minghao’s crazy full lips move when he speaks. He says, “The brown suede one?”

            Minghao only looks at him coolly, almost like he’s bored, and the wind makes his parted brown hair tickle at his forehead.

            Junhui clears his throat, then takes his jacket off and holds it out. “Wear this.”

            Minghao says, “You don’t belong talking to me. Do you even know my name?”

            Junhui draws back a little bit. Jeez…is he really that bad? Bad enough that even though he and Minghao have never spoken, Minghao already has that preconception of him? He knows that he hangs out with guys that are a little less than kind at times, and that he just goes along with it to make his life easier, but he’s never said anything to Minghao that would make him dislike him. He’s never said anything to Minghao at all.

            Maybe that’s the problem.

            He swallows again and says, “I do. Minghao. Take the jacket.” He holds it out a little further.

            Minghao sighs and looks at his book, picking up the corner of a page between two fingers. “Go back to your friends, Junhui.”

            Junhui feels his chest squeeze a little. Why does that feel so bad? But…Minghao knows his name too? Well, of course he does—they have a class together and Minghao is the last person to not pay any attention. Still.

            “Please take it,” Junhui says.

            Minghao turns his page. “Won’t _you_ be cold then?”

            Junhui wants to just drape the jacket over Minghao’s shoulders for him, but he’s afraid to touch Minghao. “I have long sleeves. I don’t like watching you shiver.”

            Minghao sighs again and looks back up at him. “What are you doing?”

            Junhui blinks and looks at his feet. What _is_ he doing? Minghao must think he’s pretty strange just coming up and talking to him suddenly like this. Minghao probably doesn’t have the time for him.

            From the corner of his eye, he sees his friends arriving, walking towards the steps of the bleachers.

            He looks back at Minghao and says, “I don’t know. Listen, if you like sports then you should come next week to the lacrosse field. It’s our first game. We’re playing this school, actually.” He motions weakly at the football field with his hand that isn’t still holding out the jacket. “So it’s kind of a big thing. Please take my jacket.”

            Minghao just stares at him for a second like he’s reading his mind or at least everything in his gaze. Then Minghao glances behind him towards where Junhui figures his friends are walking up the stairs, and he sighs and reaches up and takes the letterman from Junhui’s hands, placing it over his shoulders snugly. “Thank you.”

            Junhui nods, only half believing that this actually just happened. Almost a month and a half of this year and he finally gave Minghao his jacket.

            The crowd around them stands cheering, and Lee Chan announces a touchdown.

            Junhui looks down into Minghao’s eyes for another moment. Then he nods once and says, “The game is at four-thirty.” And he turns around and walks away.

            He steps his way back to his seat, sitting down and looking out at the field.

            “It’s cold, stupid,” Youngmin calls over to him.

            Junhui looks over as if only just noticing him arriving. “Yeah. I left my jacket at my dorm.”

            His three friends sit down next to him. “That’s why you need a roommate. To remind you of this kind of shit when you forget it,” Youngmin says, shoving him sideways.

            Junhui laughs. “Yeah, guess so.”

            After a minute, he leans forward as nonchalantly as he can, looking back at Minghao. He isn’t shivering anymore, and after he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts clicking through, he tugs the letterman a little closer around his neck.

            Junhui blinks at him, and wraps his arms around himself.


	10. XMH: An Odd Happening

_6:50 pm_

Wen Junhui from his history class walks away after giving him his letterman jacket out of nowhere. Minghao watches him go for a moment, then turns back to look at his book again.

            That was strange to say the least. Wen Junhui has never talked to him before—only about him. Minghao has heard the comments about him before—that he’s too skinny, too quiet, about his jacket being ugly, all sorts of things—and sometimes they come straight from Junhui’s usual group of three or four guys. Last week, when he was going to use the bathroom after third period before he was supposed to meet Soonyoung in the east wing science lab, Junhui and that one friend he’s always with were just walking out, and Junhui made no attempt to not stare at him for a second before he pushed open the door and his friend said, hardly keeping his voice down, _That kid is so weird._

            Minghao was under the assumption that Junhui didn’t like him, or at least didn’t give two shits about him like most other people here, especially the ones who say things like that. And that’s probably true, but then why did Junhui just hand over his jacket?

            _I don’t like seeing you shiver_.

            Minghao realizes he’s read the same paragraph three times in a row.

            He sighs and shuts his book, resting it on his legs. He tugs his phone out of his pocket and opens his texts to Soonyoung.

            _MH: dude where are you?_

            Another breeze blows and Minghao tugs the jacket a little closer around his neck. He considers telling Soonyoung about what just happened—a quick _That Junhui guy from our class just talked to me randomly???_ But he decides against it since it’s really nothing anyway.

            _SY: bro, I broke my ankle ?_

            Minghao frowns and holds his phone closer to his face.

_MH: stfu_

            He waits a moment, and then

_SY: [Sent An Image]_

            He clicks on the photo and holds back a laugh. Soonyoung is sitting on the edge of one of the infirmary beds, holding his baby-pink-casted leg up with one arm and making a peace sign, bending over and grinning huge for the selfie. In the background, the school doctor is frowning at the camera.

            Minghao presses his lips together, stifling a grin, and shakes his head.

            _MH: how the hell did you do that?_

_SY: long story short, the tree out by the music room is down one branch and I still don’t know if a 5cm chunk of sodium has enough reaction power to explode a fish bowl_

            Minghao laughs out loud once, imagining Soonyoung aiming his sodium rock down toward the bowl filled with water and shrieking as the tree branch snapped under his weight.

            _MH: dude. that’s a story for your parents isn’t it_

            _SY: no kidding. sorry Hao. how’s it going anyway? anything interesting happen?_

            Sure, Minghao thinks. Something very interesting. He looks at the scoreboard.

            _MH: one touchdown, one field goal._

_SY: sweet. keep me posted._

            Minghao shakes his head at his phone screen and looks left, leaning back a little, to search the crowd for—

            No. He tells himself he isn’t curious about Wen Junhui, and that he didn’t think he actually looked quite handsome even from that terrible downward angle, and that this whole thing with the jacket was just an odd happening and nothing more.

            He turns the ringer up on his phone, tucks it under his thigh, and opens his book again.


	11. KMG: Someone He Wants To Know

_6:45 pm_

Mingyu winces watching Hyunwoo pummel over a smaller kid from the opposing team, leaving space for Choi Seungcheol to carry the ball a few more yards.

            Changkyun and Hyungwon let out a simultaneous “Ohhh!” next to him, hands coming to their mouths before they clap.

            “Ouch,” Mingyu says. Down at the front of the bleachers, Yoon Jeonghan leans against the metal railing and cheers, waving an arm up, one foot lifting off the ground behind him as he goes up on his toes of the other.

            Mingyu has seen lots of people he knows at this game (though he does know a lot of people), and that’s including, to his surprise when he first noticed him, Jeon Wonwoo, sitting amongst a group of freshmen but alone, tucked in a dark green sweater today. He looks over at him again now, watching him bounce his sweater paws on his knees, and wondering why he’s here—if he just likes sports or if he knows some guys on the team, and thinking that neither of those makes much sense but it has to be something like that.

            Since he talked to Wonwoo on that dare last week, he’s found himself glancing at Wonwoo more often as they pass in the halls, in the music class they share sixth period, in the lunchroom where Mingyu noticed that Wonwoo always sits in the exact same place. And yet, as much as he looks at him from afar, he also finds that he’s afraid now to turn around in third period history, nervous of that calm intense look in Wonwoo’s eyes if he were to catch Mingyu watching him draw. Would Wonwoo say anything? Mingyu thinks it wouldn’t be wrong for Wonwoo to just tell him to fuck off after that stupid incident in the lunchroom.

            Wonwoo is weird—all dark colors and lidded eyes and thin-rimmed glasses, yet soft juice box paws and cute spacey movements when no one is looking. But it’s not a bad weird, Mingyu thinks. Sort of an intriguing one, actually. Endearing, almost.

            On cue, the crowd starts to stand, and Mingyu takes half a second to glance at Seungcheol running the ball down the field before looking back at Wonwoo. Wonwoo doesn’t stand, but his mouth opens and he follows the quarterback with his eyes, leaning to look past people in front of him, and when the crowd bursts into cheering at the first touchdown of the game, his lips curve into a ( _super adorable_ ) smile that crinkles his pink-tipped nose, his hands come up waving a little, ends of his sweater tucked under his fingers, sharp shoulders hunched up by his neck in the cold, and his legs wiggle.

            The smile spreads over Mingyu’s lips before he even thinks about it.

            When the guys in front of Wonwoo sit back down, one of them leans back and bumps into Wonwoo’s feet. Wonwoo immediately leans forward and starts to apologize, but the guy just turns and glares at him, and Mingyu can’t hear him at all but he’s pretty sure that on his lips he reads _Watch it, twink_. Wonwoo blinks and his face softens into blankness. He bows his head respectfully and scoots back on his stadium seat, tucking his legs up and wrapping his arms around them, propping his chin on his knees, peacefully watching the game.

            Anger flares in Mingyu’s body, making his brows go down and his back straighten. He may joke around and fake interest with people and be sexual with too many people and get on a lot of people’s nerves but he would _never_ be so directly mean like that, and would absolutely never call someone that word in such a derogatory way. He wants to go over there and shove that guy off his seat, if only just to give Wonwoo ample room for his legs. But he knows that Wonwoo wouldn’t see any chivalry in the act, and he knows that Wonwoo probably doesn’t even want Mingyu near him after that lunch.

            But Mingyu doesn’t know if he can stay away. Something about Wonwoo really draws him all of a sudden—maybe his shyness, his quietness, how cute he looks in all those too-big sweaters he wears. Why didn’t Mingyu notice those things before? He sees Wonwoo in class every day, has turned around and winked at him more than once. Has he really never paid any attention to how seriously _handsome_ Wonwoo is? That jawline and that pure black hair like an anime antihero in perfect contrast to his timid, introverted attitude and adorable smile. How could Mingyu not have seen any of that before? When did the boy who sits behind him in class, who’s sitting balled up alone in the cold on the bleachers ten meters from him, go from just that other student to Wonwoo, to someone he wants to know?

            Hyungwon punches his arm. He hisses and holds it, glaring at his friend. “Yah.”

            “You’re spacing out staring at that kid. Why are you so interested anyway? Minhyuk will kill you.”

            The first words Mingyu’s mouth wants to say are _Minhyuk doesn’t matter now_. But he stops them, because he does care about Minhyuk, but they’re not actually dating and Mingyu has the right to do what he wants then and what he wants is…

            He starts to turn his head again.

            “Look at him one more time, I swear,” Changkyun says. “Do you really want to be the one who fucked the emo kid?”

            No. But he wants to be the one who at least tried to talk to him.

            He makes a face at Changkyun and turns to the field again, forcing himself not to look, and telling himself that when he gets the chance he’ll go talk to Wonwoo, alone.


	12. BSK: That's All

_6:45 pm_

Hansol says a polite, “Excuse us,” as he steps past a few students, leading the way for Seungkwan to an empty space on the bleachers. He smiles and motions for Seungkwan to sit, and Seungkwan does, clutching his chocolate milkshake in his freezing hand.

            “Maybe hot chocolate would have been better,” Hansol says, sitting down next to him.

            Seungkwan shrugs and sips the milkshake. “I like these more.”

            Hansol laughs. “That’s good.” He takes a breath and says, “Seungkwan, I’m really glad we talked about it. I know I said that the whole way here but I really am. And I’m really happy that you came here with me even though it’s not your thing.”

            Seungkwan is glad that his cheeks are already a little red form the cold, otherwise Hansol might notice him blushing. “Yeah. Well,” he holds up the milkshake. “Thanks for this.”

            Hansol nods, smiling. “Sure. If it makes you happy.”

            Seungkwan can’t answer.

            They both look up and move their legs as Wen Junhui from their class walks by with a soft, “Excuse me. Sorry,” heading across the bleachers quickly to get somewhere, messing with the buttons on his jacket.

            “In a hurry,” Hansol comments.

            Seungkwan takes another sip, watching the players huddle on the field. “Well, I can tell you what he’s not doing.”

            Hansol looks at him. “What’s that?”

            “Going to talk to that other guy from our class. Minghao, right?”

            Hansol nods. “Ahh. You’ve noticed him staring too?”

            Seungkwan clicks his tongue. “I can feel it boring through me to get to him all the way from the back corner.”

            Hansol laughs and rubs his hands together. “Definitely. Maybe one day he’ll make a move. I think they’d look good together.”

            Seungkwan hums in reply, straw between his lips.

            After a moment, Hansol says, “Isn’t your hand cold? It’s already chilly and you’ve got that thing.” He motions to the cup in Seungkwan’s hand.

            Seungkwan lifts away a few fingers from the cup and looks at his palm, red from the chill. His body is warm in his jacket and he didn’t even notice. “Oh. Maybe it’s so cold I can’t feel it anymore.”

            Hansol chuckles. “Switch hands.”

            Seungkwan looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

            “Hold that in your other hand and give me this one.”

            Seungkwan blinks at him. He purses his lips and thinks about it for a second. It’s obvious what Hansol is trying to do. But can he really say that he wasn’t hoping for it? That he doesn’t want to let Hansol take his hand and warm it up and then accidentally forget to let go and maybe accidentally dovetail their fingers together and accidentally give Seungkwan that ridiculous smile of his like he’s all too innocent?

            Seungkwan switches hands.

            Hansol smiles at him and takes his cold right hand, holding it between his palms. “Wow. You really are cold.” He rubs his hands a little, squeezing tight. “Getting better?”

            Seungkwan nods. “Yeah. Sure.” He sips his milkshake and looks back out at the field, waiting for Hansol to do his thing.

            Hansol rubs a few more times, and then he places Seungkwan’s hand back on Seungkwan’s thigh.

            Seungkwan stops. He looks over at Hansol, who’s just looking out at the game. He stares at him for a while, wondering if maybe he didn’t actually want to hold his hand or what. Was it silly of him to think so?

            “Do you like my profile?” Hansol says, a grin threatening to spread over his lips.

            Seungkwan is about to say yes before he gets his thoughts straight. “Aren’t you—I thought you were going to…”

            Hansol turns to him, laughing gently. “I am. I just wanted to see your reaction and hear you say it, too.” He puts his hand out again.

            Seungkwan makes a face at him and takes it. “Ah. What’s wrong with you?”

            “Whatever you say is,” Hansol says, then kisses the back of Seungkwan’s hand before twining their fingers and scooting closer to him. “Is this too much?” he asks.

            Seungkwan’s cheeks are suddenly _really_ warm and his hand tingles where Hansol’s lips touched his skin. He tries to tell himself that it’s just the feeling coming back into his nerves after being so cold, that’s all. “You mean sitting close or you kissing my hand?” He almost accidentally says _Like a prince._

            “Both or either,” Hansol says. “Just tell me if anything I do makes you feel weird, okay? I don’t want to make you feel weird.”

            Does the way Seungkwan feels in his chest when Hansol says stuff like that count? If it does, Seungkwan thinks that he doesn’t want to say anything about it or else Hansol might not do it again.

            He says, managing to keep his voice even, “No. That was fine. This is fine.”

            Hansol leans into him briefly. “Cool. Look—I think Seungcheol’s running the ball.”

            Seungkwan watches the field, the number 13 on Seungcheol’s jersey clear as he sprints down toward the inzone, at least a few meters ahead of anyone else. Seungkwan shouts and lifts off his seat for half a second and doesn’t realize that he’s squeezing Hansol’s hand and shaking it hard as Seungcheol practically jogs into his touchdown, lifting the ball into the air before being crushed from both sides by two team members in celebration.

            “Wahh!” Seungkwan cheers, kicking his feet a little, still shaking Hansol’s hand.

            Hansol laughs out loud as the crowd takes their seats again and Seungkwan sucks in a big gulp of his milkshake. “Representative cheerleader,” Hansol says.

            Seungkwan looks wide-eyed over at him. “Oh.” He shifts his fingers in Hansol’s. “Ah…really?”

            Hansol grins. “Almost as excited as Yoon Jeonghan.”

            Seungkwan glances down at Jeonghan by the railing, bouncing on his toes and cheering for his boyfriend. On the field, Seungcheol points to him before turning his hand upward, thumb and forefinger in a gloved heart, sending it twice in Jeonghan’s direction as he walks back to set for the next play. Seungkwan has always thought there was something about the couple that was sickeningly cute despite how often they shout at each other in front of the other students. Maybe because, somehow, they always come back to where they seem to be now—in heavy like for each other. Seungkwan has wanted something like that since he watched his parents as a kid.

            Still a little embarrassed, he says, “Oh. It was cool.”

            “And football isn’t your thing, right?” Hansol says.

            Seungkwan nods seriously. “Correct.”

            Hansol laughs and squeezes his hand.

            Seungkwan just sips his milkshake again. His heart beats a little too fast, but it’s only the adrenaline from the good play, that’s all. It’s not Hansol looking at him that way or holding his hand that way or Hansol’s warmth right next to him in this cold air or anything like that.

            Just the game. That’s all.


	13. XMH: The Significance of a Jacket

DAY 37: FLOWER

 

_10:35 am_

Minghao shakes his head for the hundredth time at Soonyoung, watching him swing down the hallway toward him on his crutches.

            Soonyoung grins at him. “It’s been nearly a week, Hao.”

            “I just honestly can’t believe you broke your ankle falling out of a tree,” Minghao says, grabbing his jacket from his locker before third period.

            “Hurt like a bitch, too,” Soonyoung says. “But hey, I’ve still got this cute pink cast, huh?” He sticks his foot out for also the hundredth time, displaying his cast with signatures all over it. “How long is it gonna take you to sign this thing anyway?”

            Minghao shuts his locker and looks down at it. Across the top of Soonyoung’s foot, the V in the word LOVER in English has been marked over in red with an S, opposite from the movie. Minghao makes a flat face at Soonyoung. “That one’s yours isn’t it.”

            Soonyoung snorts. “We all know the truth.”

            Minghao shakes his head again, smiling, and leads the way to class. They take their seats, Soonyoung in front of Minghao. He turns in his chair and rests his arms on the back. “We don’t have a test this week, right?”

            Minghao raises an eyebrow. “If you’d come to class more often maybe you’d know, hm?”

            Soonyoung sighs, relieved. “Thank god. I didn’t want to study today. First lacrosse game of the year is at four-thirty and there’s no way I’m missing it.”

            Minghao pauses as he takes out his notebook, blinking at the floor, then covers it. He places his notebook on his desk and starts to find his page, saying, “I heard about that. Do you usually go?”

            Soonyoung nods at him. “Yeah.” His eyes get wider. “Dude, you wanna come with me? I usually go alone. Please come.”

            Minghao forces himself not to glance back at Junhui’s desk across the room. Since Junhui came up to him at that football game, he can’t say he hasn’t been curious. The jacket transfer is usually a couple thing, at least in Minghao’s mind. That, or close friends, which he and Junhui obviously are not. Which gives him the idea that maybe Junhui…likes him? The idea actually annoys him a little bit, because Junhui has never spoken to him otherwise, but has been involved with the sort of people that say things about Minghao all the time. Why would Minghao want to be with someone who’s treated him that way? And _why_ suddenly come up to him then at the game, and then avoid him for days afterward?

            Junhui has an image that he wants to uphold—Minghao understands that enough. But that doesn’t make it okay for him to say the things his group says, to be mean and rude, and it certainly doesn’t make Minghao want to jump on him the moment Junhui realizes that Minghao might actually be someone he’d like to be around.

            But he is curious, and Junhui did invite him to the game. And now Soonyoung did too, and Minghao doesn’t have anything else to do today.

            He still hasn’t given the jacket back, either. It seemed that Junhui avoided him the rest of last week; over the weekend, Minghao kept the jacket in his dormroom, not knowing where Junhui’s is and so unable to take it to him; and yesterday all the lacrosse players were excused from the second half of third period to practice through lunch, and Junhui just never showed at all, skipping the class entirely. If he went to the game today, he’d finally have the chance to rid himself of the thing.

            At least Soonyoung will be there, and he does want to hang out with his only friend. Besides, how can he say no when Soonyoung is looking at him like that, lips doing that little O they always make?

            “Please,” Soonyoung says, his eyes going innocent and his lower lip sticking out a little.

            Minghao sighs and acquiesces. “All right, I’ll go.”

            Soonyoung grins, eyes squeezing shut. “Awesome. We’ll head over after sixth and chill.”

            Minghao nods at him. He looks up to the front of the class as Junhui walks in. Junhui makes eye contact with him again, and Minghao holds it for as long as Junhui can manage before he blinks and looks away ( _nervously?_ Minghao wonders) and goes to his seat.

 

_4:30 pm_

“That’s Wen Junhui,” Soonyoung says, pointing out at the field as the players start setting up. One from the opposing team and one from their team are headed to the center of the field by the referee, readying for the first face off for the ball. Minghao recognizes the 3 on Junhui’s jersey—the same number as on the letterman that Minghao shoved into his backpack before meeting Soonyoung to come here. “From our class. He’s the best player on the team.”

            Minghao squints down at him in the sun. “Is he?”

            Soonyoung tisks and shakes his head. “He’s so good. He looks really cool when he plays. Last year, at least four of our wins were all because of him. Maybe that’s why he’s so popular.”

            Minghao just hums.

            The two captains lean down with their sticks ready, and Soonyoung waves his hand in Minghao’s face, shushing him, as if he were actually talking in the first place. Minghao leans away from it and lifts an eyebrow at Soonyoung who whispers harshly, “It’s starting.”

            The whistle is blown, and Junhui scoops the ball out from between the two of them and spins quickly on his feet to throw it towards his team. Soonyoung shouts in excitement.

            Throughout the game, Junhui makes a lot of good plays, and Minghao can see why he’s considered the star player. He almost always seems to be one of the three players that can move around the field for either offense or defense. He makes clean passes, launching the ball halfway across the field at one point for his teammate to score, and catches everything thrown at him like he has eyes on every side of his helmet. He moves through the players easily, rebounding from body checks or avoiding them entirely. At the end of the first quarter, he stick checks an opponent from behind by somehow swinging his stick around him and popping the ball into the air, and he spins his stick back and up, catching the ball, and shooting it away to a teammate. The crowd loves him, boys Minghao has never seen and will never speak to standing on their feet and cheering. Soonyoung might be the loudest one, jumping up on one foot any time a good play is made, screaming when they score a goal.

            By the end of the second quarter, their team has scored six—three by Junhui—while the away teams sits at two.

            The clock is counting halftime, and Soonyoung sighs contentedly and turns to Minghao. “Cool, isn’t it?”

            Minghao just nods. “Yeah. I’ve never watched lacrosse before, so.”

            Soonyoung grins, bouncing the leg where his ankle actually works. “We’re totally gonna win. Not that I wanna jinx it, but. We’re gonna win. Jun’s doing great today, as expected, and they’re backing him well. This is so—” He cuts off and looks at Minghao again, leg still bouncing. “Oh—I meant to ask you in class. Can I borrow your notes from yesterday?”

            Minghao sighs. “Soonyoung, you didn’t come to class yesterday so why should—”

            “English class, you jerk. I was solving an empirical equation for twenty minutes. It took me the whole front and half the back of a page. Pretty please?”

            Minghao eyes him for a moment, then sighs again and tugs his backpack between his feet. Soonyoung smiles in victory. Minghao pulls open the zipper, going for his notebook for English before realizing what’s about to happen.

            But Soonyoung’s leg is already still, and he’s already leaning closer to Minghao to peer into his backpack. “What’s that?”

            Minghao keeps his hands still, trying to think of what to do or say, then figures there’s no point in lying since Soonyoung will just figure him out. He brings one hand to the back of his neck and says, “It’s a jacket.”

            Soonyoung shoves next to him and pokes at the backpack, which Minghao tries not very hard to keep away, keeping his gaze from Soonyoung’s. “Why do you have that,” Soonyoung says. “That’s lacrosse colors.”

            Soonyoung narrows his eyes at Minghao, who just looks off at the treetops past the field and takes his hands off his backpack.

            Soonyoung grabs the jacket out and holds it up. He gasps. “ _This is Junhui’s number_. Oh my god.” He turns to Minghao and thrusts the jacket at him, not unlike the way Junhui did last week. “Hao. What have you not told me?”

            Minghao sighs and takes the jacket, placing it on his lap. “The football game you didn’t show to?”

            Soonyoung sticks his cast out again.

            Minghao nods and takes his English notebook out of his backpack, handing it to Soonyoung. “Junhui just…randomly walked over to me.” Soonyoung makes a face. “No joke,” Minghao says. “He just walked over and said I looked cold and offered his jacket. I told him to go back—he’s never talked to me before ever. But he just kept standing there with it out and I figured the only way he’d leave was if I took it. And then he invited me to this game, and when his friends showed up he hurried away. Before they could see him talking to me.”

            Soonyoung just looks at him for a second, lips parted, eyes confused. He asks, “He invited you here?”

            Minghao nods. He expects Soonyoung to tease him, to say something like _So you’re only here for him and not me_. But instead Soonyoung’s eyes widen again and he looks at the jacket and then at Minghao and says, “Oh my god. Why didn’t you tell me you’re dating a celebrity?”

            Minghao laughs without humor and turns forward again. “We’re not dating.”

            “Come on. Everyone knows when one of you gives the other their jacket you’re dating.”

            Yeah. That’s why he’s confused about this whole thing. He says again, “We’re not dating,” and closes his backpack.

            Soonyoung puts his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Sure. But he likes you then.”

            Minghao sighs and shakes his head. “Why would he like me?” Maybe Soonyoung can give him the answer because he can’t seem to figure it out himself.

            Soonyoung’s face screws up again. “Uh, because you’re kickass?”

            Minghao really does laugh a little this time. “I’m just ‘that kid’. That’s who I am to everyone.”

            “Not to me, Minghao. And not to him either if he gave you that thing.”

            Minghao looks at the jacket in his lap, the grey 3 patch fuzzy under his fingertips—but why is he touching it anyway? He puts his hands by his sides and leans back and says, “To be honest, Soonyoung, I don’t even know.”

            Soonyoung smirks. “That means yes. _Cute_. Extra cute since you’re like a Chinese power duo.”

            Minghao rolls his eyes. “Can you just not tell anyone about this? I’ve already got enough people talking about me.”

            Soonyoung draws a big X on his chest. “Cross my heart. Can’t wait for the wedding.”

            Minghao just shakes his head again as the timer buzzes for the start of the third quarter.

 

Junhui continues good plays, aiding in the scoring of two more goals for their team. A new play is set in the fourth quarter as Soonyoung stops cheering and waving his hands around.

            Minghao is looking down at the jacket when Soonyoung says, “Dude, you’re not even watching. What is it, his pheromones?”

            Minghao pushes his shoulder. “You can see why I might be a little weirded out, right?”

            Soonyoung shrugs and nods. “For sure. Are you gonna watch or just fantasize about him?”

            Minghao prepares another, harder shove, but the whistle starts the play and he watches it instead. The member of the opposing team who gained the ball throws to one of his teammates, and Minghao is pretty sure it’s Youngmin, Junhui’s friend, who body checks him with his shoulder, knocking the ball to the ground. 10 from their home team picks it up and runs, searching for a pass. Junhui runs diagonally from him, stick ready, but another of their teammates shouts “Ball!” loud enough for Minghao to hear from the bleachers, and 10 turns toward him.

            “No no,” Soonyoung says quickly. “He’s blocked.”

            Junhui shouts “Pass!” louder, and 10 has already prepped his shot towards the original target before he realizes that a guy from the away team is on him. He twitches, redirecting, and throws off course toward Junhui. Junhui skids, trying to make up for it, but isn’t fast enough, and the ball pelts him right in his upper chest. He staggers backward and crumples to the ground.

            The sound is a clear _pop_ , and Soonyoung’s hands come up to cover his mouth while Minghao hisses in a breath and cringes. The crowd _ooo_ ’s while whistles blow.

            “Jesus,” Soonyoung says. “Hear that?”

            Minghao doesn’t answer, looking closely at Junhui, who sits up from the ground and waves his hand out to let everyone know he’s all right. Minghao sighs a little in what he’s sure isn’t relief and says, “That had to sting.”

            “That’s like, mega paintball,” Soonyoung says, laughing a little. “Look at him.”

            Junhui tugs his jersey out and peers down into it, then lets it go and places a hand over his chest. Referees, their coach, and teammates come over to him, and he must assure them he’s fine because they get set to continue the game. He rubs at his chest while he waits for it to start.

            “That’s definitely going to leave a mark,” Soonyoung says.

            Minghao watches Junhui go back to playing like nothing happened. “Yeah. Jeez.”

            “Someone should kiss it better.” Soonyoung giggles as Minghao finally hits him with that shove.

            “Let’s make an agreement now that you won’t bug me about it,” Minghao says.

            Soonyoung whines. “Ah, you’re no fun.”

            “Nothing’s even happening. I’m just going to give his jacket back, and things will go back to the way they were.”

            Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Yeah okay. And I’ll promise not to bug you, but the moment this game is over we’re going down there together to hand it over and talk to him.”

            “There’s no need to talk,” Minghao says.

            “Yes there is. It’s what polite human beings do. You’re gonna thank him for offering his jacket and you guys will flirt a little bit and then in a few days or tomorrow he’s gonna ask you out and it’ll be fine.” He waves his hand like it’s completely simple.

            Minghao sighs and puts his chin in his hand, holding the jacket closer. “You’re crazy.”

 

“Hi,” Minghao says as Junhui walks up to them by the field.

            “Hi,” Junhui says back. His jersey is off and he’s wearing only a muscle shirt underneath. His arms still glisten with sweat, as does his neck, which is visibly red just under his collar. “I…didn’t expect you to come.”

            Minghao says, “Neither did I,” and Soonyoung hits him with the bottom of his crutches.

            Minghao watches Junhui open up a liter of water and chug a third of it at once, his Adam’s apple moving with each swallow, his lips red against the clear plastic. Junhui replaces the cap and looks at them. “Sorry. I drink a lot.” Nobody says anything for a moment, Soonyoung looking between the two of them, Junhui apparently finding it hard to look into Minghao’s eyes. Finally, Junhui says, “So…did you like the game?”

            Minghao nods. “Congrats on the first win.”

            “You did awesome, dude,” Soonyoung says.

            Junhui smiles and bows his head a little. “Thanks, Soonyoung.”

            Soonyoung looks for the briefest moment like he really has been addressed by a celebrity, then wipes it off his face and says, “You know, this was the first time Hao here ever came to lacrosse.”

            Minghao sighs silently. If Soonyoung tries anything—

            “Really?” Junhui says.

            Minghao looks at him again. “Yep. I was convinced.”

            Junhui gets this look in his eyes that asks _By him or by me?_ Minghao swallows and Junhui says, “Oh. That’s, uh—that’s cool. I’m glad we won now.”

            Minghao thinks that Junhui would probably be glad they won whether he came or not. He prevents himself from rolling his eyes. They really need to leave.

            “You got whacked pretty hard, huh?” Soonyoung says, producing a granola bar from god knows where and tearing it open.

            Junhui’s cheeks flush a little, though they already had a nice flush on them before, Minghao thinks, and then wonders what he’s thinking.

            “Ah…yeah,” Junhui says, looking down at himself. “Kind of a mess.” He tugs at his collar and brushes down his hair from his helmet.

            “Well it worked out in the end,” Minghao says, not looking at Junhui’s sweaty hair and his bare arms on purpose. “I thought I’d give you your jacket back.” _You know, since you’ve been avoiding me ever since you gave it to me so your friends don’t see you talking to me._

            Junhui looks at the letterman. “Oh.”

            “Thank you for letting me use it.” He sticks it out for Junhui to take.

            And then Junhui does the whole thing where he thanks him and he takes the jacket but not without brushing their fingers together a little bit, and Minghao can practically feel the vibrations coming off of Soonyoung next to him as he pulls his hand away.

            Junhui smiles awkwardly and looks down, holding the jacket in front of him. “Yeah. Sorry if I seemed weird last week. You really did look cold.”

            _You did. And…I was._ “It’s fine,” Minghao says, shrugging.

            Junhui just looks at him.

            Soonyoung looks blankly over at Minghao. He draws in a breath and says, “Well, I guess we should be going. Great game, Jun.”

            Junhui smiles and bows his head again in thanks, then looks at Minghao again.

            Minghao just puts a hand up as a goodbye and they turn to go.

            Soonyoung sighs and bites into his granola bar as they walk away. “You really—”

            “Thanks for coming, Minghao,” Junhui calls after them. They turn around and Junhui has a hand halfway up, and he’s standing weirdly, and Minghao thinks that maybe Junhui does actually like him. _Why?_

            He waves back and turns back around.

            Soonyoung catches up with him. “Dude. You’re so personable I can’t stand it.”

            “Exactly,” Minghao says.

            Soonyoung clicks his tongue. “You know, there are lots of reasons he might like you. And he _so_ likes you.” He hands one of his crutches to Minghao so he can eat better.

            Minghao shakes his head, adjusting his backpack on one shoulder, taking the crutch. “Why now? Why suddenly?”

            Soonyoung puts out the hand with his bar in it like the answer is obvious. “Because he suddenly realizes he likes you.”

            Minghao looks at the dirt road they’re on to head back to the school. “I don’t know.”

            “Really, Hao. He likes you. He’s usually super chill, super charismatic with people and everyone loves him. He’s totally different with you. The way he looked at you—didn’t he seem flustered? Wen Junhui is never flustered. He’s always so cool in—” He gasps and looks at Minghao, wide-eyed. “Minghao, oh my god.”

            Minghao wonders what it could possibly be. “What?”

            “In class!” Soonyoung says. “I’ve seen him looking at you before!”

            Minghao raises an eyebrow. “You mean that class you never go to?”

            Soonyoung frowns. “Hey, I have a B minus in there, I’m doing all right. I go sometimes. I went today.” He waves his hand and takes a bite worth about half of what’s left of his bar. “Listen,” he says, mouth totally full. “He’s definitely watched you sometimes, okay? And that back there… Maybe he’s got an eye for you.”

            “If—”

            “Scratch that, he’s _definitely_ got an eye for you.”

            Minghao sighs. “If he does then he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

            Soonyoung frowns through his granola, cheek puffed out like a chipmunk’s. “Yeah. His little group is sort of…eh. They say stuff about everyone.”

            “Eh is the least of it.” Minghao kicks a rock and it bounces away into the grass. “At least you have other friends to soften the blow.”

            “I’m your friend!”

            Minghao smiles at him. “You are, and I’m very thankful for that. It’s just…I could be getting myself into something not so good. If he’s even real about this.”

            “He is,” Soonyoung says with a sure nod. “And sometimes not so good is better, right?”

            Minghao doesn’t look at him. “I don’t think bumper sticker wisdom is going to help me here.”

            “Nah,” Soonyoung says, crumpling his wrapper and sticking it in his pocket. “You’ve got to help yourself.”


	14. KMG: Maroon

_11:35 am_

Mingyu glances behind himself one more time to see if his friends have come into the lunchroom and seen him yet. With the coast apparently clear, he says a quick thank you to the lunch lady and takes his tray from the line.

            He’s there, in that same place he always is, at his table alone by the windows. _Maroon looks good on your skin,_ Mingyu thinks. He takes a deep breath and tells himself that it’s really now or never. He has to at least make amends, anyway.

            He makes his way to Jeon Wonwoo’s table.

            Wonwoo looks up at him, today’s apple juice box in hand, as he takes the same seat he took before and places his tray on the table. Mingyu takes out his chopsticks and looks at Wonwoo for a moment. He wants to smile, but he also doesn’t want to give Wonwoo the wrong idea, that maybe this is the same thing Mingyu was doing last time. It isn’t—this is different.

            He says, “Hi, Wonwoo.”

            Wonwoo sighs and says, “Mingyu—”

            “I just want to sit here today, okay?”

            Wonwoo looks sideways, and Mingyu knows Wonwoo’s looking for his friends. They still haven’t arrived—Mingyu made a big point of getting here early, and he kind of hates himself for being embarrassed about his friends seeing him with Wonwoo, but whatever. Wonwoo looks back at him.

            “Is that okay?” Mingyu asks, ready to get up and leave if Wonwoo says it isn’t.

            Wonwoo blinks and says, “All right.”

            Mingyu starts to smile, then wipes it from his lips and nods. “Okay. Cool.”

            As he starts to eat, he can feel Wonwoo watching him, that juice box still on the table wrapped in Wonwoo’s maroon sweater, Wonwoo’s chopsticks hardly moving in his other hand. This is super awkward, but Mingyu is just trying to prove that he’s not what Wonwoo must think of him. Yeah, he’s the school slut, and yeah he’s kind of an ass in that way, but he’s not a bad guy. But he must have looked pretty shitty, going up to Wonwoo on a dare like that, making it seem like he had no thought for Wonwoo besides being a source of entertainment to him and his friends. Which…is kind of what it was then. But not now. Even if it’s superficial, Mingyu wants to talk to Wonwoo at least this once, and to try to see something that he hasn’t seen before. Maybe Wonwoo harbors interesting thoughts that only come out in doodles at the back of the classroom.

            “So you like to draw?” Mingyu says suddenly. He looks up and Wonwoo is just looking at him. He waits for a second, hoping to hear Wonwoo’s answer, but after some moments of uncomfortable silence, he says, “Please eat. I don’t mean to be weird and this isn’t—it’s not like before. That was dumb. I just want to talk.”

            Wonwoo tilts his head a little bit, and Mingyu feels like a specimen under his gaze. He shifts in his seat, waiting to see if Wonwoo will tell him to go away or maybe shoot laser beams out of his eyes.

            Wonwoo says, “Yeah. Making pictures helps me remember concepts in class better than notes.”

            Mingyu holds back a sigh. Okay—maybe this won’t go horribly after all. Plus one for no disintegrating laser beams. He nods and says, “So…that king you drew?”

            “Faceless is less gruesome than headless,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu nods again. Thinking of that drawing, he does actually get what it means and how it relates to their class subject. Maybe Wonwoo’s onto something. “So you’re more of a visual learner?” he asks.

            Wonwoo hums and nods back.

            Mingyu comes this close to letting some stupid line about his own visuals and Wonwoo learning or something totally gross like that automatically slip from his lips like he would say with his friends around or to some hot senior at a party, but he thinks _Shut the fuck up_ and stops himself. He does allow himself to smile though, trying his best to keep it from looking coy in any way, and he’s glad to see Wonwoo start pushing his food around again.

            “That’s cool,” he says. He means it, but he wonders if Wonwoo believes it.

            Wonwoo just glances at him again.

            Mingyu draws in a breath and says, “I like your sweater.”

            Wonwoo doesn’t look at his clothes like most people would, just breaks his pile of rice into four smaller piles with his chopsticks. Mingyu starts to wonder if Wonwoo actually consumes anything besides juice. He is kind of skinny. But in a somehow good-looking way.

            “It’s new. My brother sent it to me,” Wonwoo says. “He knows about fashion and stuff. He models.”

            Mingyu raises his eyebrows. That’s definitely something he didn’t expect. He realizes now that the only image he’s ever conjured of Wonwoo’s family (and he thought he was an only child) over the past few days bore a striking, albeit Asian resemblance to the Addams parents. He clears his throat at how dumb he can be and says, “Really? That’s great. I’ve always thought modeling was such a cool job.”

            Wonwoo pats his rice hills into little half spheres as he says, “Well, you’re handsome enough to do it.” He sips his juice.

            Mingyu blinks at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a compliment so easily batted over to him, and he’s pretty sure Wonwoo didn’t even mean anything behind giving it. Why would he? “Oh. Uh—thank you,” he says. After another weird silence he asks, “Do you not like rice?”

            Wonwoo’s lips curve a little on one corner and he says, “Just not hungry.”

            “Thirsty?” Mingyu asks, then hopes he didn’t sound rude.

            Wonwoo brings his juice straw to his lips again and looks into Mingyu’s eyes. He swallows and says, “I like apple juice,” before sipping again.

            Mingyu watches him, his lips making a cute pucker around the straw, and Mingyu has to push away a sudden thought that’s far less than clean. He shakes his head a little and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Wonwoo says, “What were you thinking?”

            Mingyu feels his cheeks tinge pink. They haven’t done that from anything other than physical activity in a long time. Apparently Wonwoo can’t shoot laser beams from his eyes but he can read minds, or at least expressions. And these past few days Mingyu might have noticed that too—Wonwoo looks at people like he knows exactly what’s going on with each and every one of them. Mingyu never noticed that before, and he figures no one else did either because nobody ever pays any attention to Wonwoo. But it looks like Wonwoo pays a lot of attention to everyone around him. He probably understands way more than anyone thinks. The knowing look on his face right now definitely doesn’t contradict that.

            Mingyu looks sideways and says, “Probably not much.”

            Wonwoo laughs, and it’s a really gentle sound like his low smooth voice.

            Mingyu blurts out, “Wonwoo, do you want to go to next week’s football game with me?”

            He pauses, one hand stuck to the table, the other suspended in the air with his chopsticks pointing left. He doesn’t really know where that came from. He and Wonwoo barely know each other—why would Wonwoo want to go to a football game with him?

            But, maybe Wonwoo wants friends. Right? Mingyu figures he could just be the loner like everyone thinks, and he wouldn’t be surprised about that either—if Wonwoo _didn’t_ actually want friends. But Wonwoo might also be shy, and, Mingyu is starting to think, might be a little too smart for his own good.

            Mingyu fills the space by stammering out, “I’ll—I’ll kick any asshole who calls you names in the face if that makes up for what I did two weeks ago.”

            Wonwoo looks like he remembers, both the obvious thing of Mingyu embarrassing himself before, and the other student being rude to him at the football game last week. And Wonwoo also looks like he realizes perfectly that that means Mingyu must have been watching him.

            Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and says, “I think it’s time for you to go.”

            Mingyu’s chest compresses for a second. He’s not used to rejection but he can handle it, but for some reason this one’s a little more crushing. He really was trying.

            But maybe Wonwoo reads the probably pathetic look on his face because he tilts his head to the side. Mingyu looks over and sees his friends walking up to a table, casting weird glances in his direction, Minhyuk looking livid with a maroon velvet choker that doesn’t go well with the angry color of his skin. Mingyu looks at them, at Hyungwon ushering Minhyuk to the table and maybe throwing Mingyu a scowl or just a look of annoyance mixed with pity before sitting down and averting his eyes.

            But still, something like relief opens Mingyu’s lungs back up, because maybe Wonwoo didn’t flat out reject him like he thought.

            He swallows, looks back at Wonwoo, and says, “But there’s still twenty minutes of lunch left.”

            Wonwoo gazes at him with that gentle intensity again. He tilts his head, and then he nods once. “All right. I’ll go with you.”


	15. YJH: Just Like That

DAY 45: TRAUMA

 

_3:25 pm_

The last bell of the day rings just as Jeonghan finishes putting away his textbooks in his locker. He closes the door and sees Seungcheol, Jackson, and a few other guys from Seungcheol’s sixth period walking down the hallway towards him.

            He and Seungcheol kind of argued a little bit this morning, but maybe it was just Jeonghan being in a bad mood because Seungcheol was late on his good morning text. He’s over it now. So he smiles, remembering that it’s Wednesday—the only weekday where they’re allowed to leave campus after school, as long as they’re back by 10 p.m. curfew. He and Seungcheol have a date this afternoon in the city before the football game at 6:30 where he plans on watching his boyfriend crush it like he’s been doing all this season.

            “Pick your murderer—him or Coach,” Jeonghan hears Jackson say down the hallway.

            Jeonghan keeps his body from going forward to meet Seungcheol like it wanted to. He holds his backpack against his chest and waits.

            Seungcheol sighs. “We were supposed to go out today.”

            “He’ll probably order your head chopped off,” Jackson says with a chuckle. “Or just whine at you all night like usual.”

            Jeonghan frowns and holds his backpack closer. He never did like Seungcheol’s roommate anyway. Seungcheol will defend him.

            Seungcheol sighs and says, “It’s not… He’s just like that.”

            Jeonghan blinks at them. Really? Seungcheol couldn’t have even put in a good word? Jeonghan is just like _what_?

            Like what everyone doesn’t say?

            He knows people think things about him. He has long hair and he wears makeup and his clothes don’t fit as guyish as everyone else’s and…yeah, he’s obviously gay. He doesn’t know why it has to be such a big deal for everyone. He tries, doesn’t he? And it’s not like he’s hitting on every guy he passes in the hallway. What’s so wrong with him that people don’t like him? Like, yeah, he knows he’s not always the nicest person ever but what can he do when people don’t treat him the way he should be treated?

            Seungcheol treated him that way. He still does, but…something _weird_ pokes at Jeonghan’s heart at night when he’s lying in bed, or in the hall when he hears some stupid freshman say he looks like a girl. One time he thought it was envy, sometimes he thinks it’s depression, most of the time he doesn’t know what it is besides an ugly acidic feeling in the back of his throat. He wonders often if it’s what makes him the way he is. But maybe he’s just like that.

            It’s not like people would suddenly like him if he was an angel, anyway. He’d still be just as gay as before.

            “Whatever,” Jackson says. “I don’t know how you put up with him every day. You guys fight all the time. Anyway—you better show at practice in half an hour or I’ll bench you myself.”

            Seungcheol shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He looks up and meets Jeonghan’s gaze. Immediately he straightens up and puts on a smile, and immediately Jackson rolls his eyes and starts to peel away, and immediately Jeonghan feels his ribs tightening down over his chest.

            “Ah—I’ll see you later,” Seungcheol calls, acting, and his friends don’t even bother glancing back at him or answering. Seungcheol walks a little faster toward Jeonghan, smiling nervously.

            Jeonghan turns to face the lockers again.

            Seungcheol comes up to him and kisses his cheek. “Hey, babe.”

            Jeonghan looks pointedly not at him. “Hey.”

            “How was your day?”

            Jeonghan sighs and frowns at him. “Just spill it, Seungcheol. You have your bad news smile on.”

            The smile fades for a moment, but then Seungcheol paints it back on. He giggles awkwardly and says, “Do I have one of those?”

            Jeonghan rolls his eyes and looks off to the side.

            Seungcheol sighs and touches Jeonghan’s arm gently. “I’m sorry, Hannie. I don’t think I can make it to our date today. I have—”

            Jeonghan tisks, stepping away from Seungcheol’s touch. “Make it to our date today—what are we, two months into this relationship?”

            Seungcheol looks at the floor. “I have practice before the game. Last minute decision today to add time.”

            Jeonghan can feel Seungcheol’s typical puppy-eyed gaze at him, but he just shakes his head and slings his backpack over his shoulders.

            Seungcheol says softly, “I know you’re upset about it—“

            “You think _that’s_ why I’m upset?”

            Seungcheol stares at Jeonghan glaring at him. “What…what’s wrong, Hannie?”

            Jeonghan wants to say that he feels hurt, that Seungcheol shouldn’t let his friends talk about him like that. But what would it change? They’re never going to stop. Jeonghan is too different for them to ever stop.

            He draws in a deep breath and says, “Just go to practice, Seungcheol.”

            Seungcheol’s mouth opens and he puts a hand out. “Han—”

            “Just _go_ ,” Jeonghan snaps, and he turns to walk away.


	16. BSK: You're the One That I Want

_4:30 pm_

Seokmin releases a gorgeous B-flat that can be heard well over the rest of the students singing the final major chord of _Be Our Guest_. Their theatre director yells cut and starts telling Lumiére what a good job he did. Which is true—Seokmin has always been one of the top theatre students. The only reason he didn’t get the part of Beast or Gaston was that he couldn’t be dark and brooding or cavalier and mean enough. Watching their after school practice now as it’s just ending, Seungkwan figures that the French candlestick part fits Seokmin pretty well overall.

            After giving compliments and criticism to everyone working on the play, the director dismisses everyone, and Seungkwan waits at the top of the auditorium until Seokmin makes his way out from backstage and up to meet him.

            “Good?” Seokmin asks, waving Seungkwan along.

            Seungkwan stands and walks with Seokmin out to the courtyard. “Really good. I think this year will be even better than _Grease_.”

            Seokmin laughs and says, “Yeah, but I think I did pretty good as Frenchy considering.”

            “ _Beauty School Dropout_ was way better than _You’re the One That I Want_ ,” Seungkwan says. “Who’s playing Belle this year again?”

            “Taehyun,” Seokmin answers. “Gotta say.” He motions to a bench and they both sit down. “He’s got a really great voice for the higher parts. And he’s not embarrassed about it at all—playing the female lead. I do kinda wish Jeonghan liked acting, though. Wouldn’t he look great as Belle?”

            Seungkwan snorts. “Like he’d ever be in a play.”

            Seokmin nods. “I’m petitioning to finally get _Les Mis_ up. Next year’s is planned but I’ll get it running the year after. It’ll be my senior year so it’s only fair I get to play Marius.”

            “Not Javert?”

            “Don’t you mean not Valjean?”

            “Or Eponine maybe.”

            Seokmin pauses for a second, then looks at Seungkwan and says, “You know, that could work. I would kill _On My Own._ ”

            Seungkwan smiles at him. “You do cry a lot.”

            Seokmin smiles back, and where on most people it would be fake and bitter, Seokmin’s is totally true. “So it’s been a couple weeks with Hansol now, right?” he says.

            Seungkwan’s heart does a funny jump. He puts his knees together and scrunches his face up. “A couple weeks of what?”

            Seokmin sighs dramatically. “Seungkwan, we have been friends for way too long for you to think you can fool me with your attitude.”

            Seungkwan purses his lips and looks down. “Ah…”

            When Seungkwan says nothing else, Seokmin says, “Look, you’ve gone to a football game together, you’ve had lunch together sometimes even if Hansol had to leave his friends, you’ve finally stopped being quite as awkward in class with each other. Still awkward, but not as much. And don’t forget that you’ve kissed.” Seungkwan throws him a look and Seokmin puts his hands up in surrender. “It’s going insanely slow but it’s obvious you like him. And clearly he likes you back and it’s been like this for over a year now so just—” He waves his hands. “Date. You know. Be happy.”

            Seungkwan sighs. Everything Seokmin said is true—he and Hansol have been spending a little more time together, and it would be a huge lie if Seungkwan said that he didn’t like it, and that Hansol doesn’t make his heart flutter. And now that he’s been seeing more of Hansol personally he’s starting to realize what a fine young man he’s becoming even after just this short time of knowing each other since high school started. Hansol has a really good heart, which just adds onto the fact that he’s really handsome and has that stupid cute smile and those pretty eyes and that contagious laugh and…

            “I don’t know,” Seungkwan says.

            Seokmin looks like he can see everything Seungkwan was just thinking. “Does he make you happy?” he asks, a little quieter.

            Seungkwan blushes. Damn Seokmin for making him be honest with him and also with himself. “Yeah. Not by choice.”

            Seokmin smiles and says, “Isn’t that the best way?”

            Seungkwan’s face scrunches again and he says, “I’m just nervous? I’ve never dated before. What am I doing?”

            Seokmin grins widely and wraps his arm around Seungkwan, pulling him close into his side. Seungkwan deadpans and leans squished against him, cheek on his shoulder. “You’re off to a really good start if he makes you nervous,” Seokmin says. “Maybe dance with him some Wednesday.”

            “In the middle of class?” Seungkwan grumbles.

            “I’m sure he’d love to show you off,” Seokmin says, leaning his head sideways on Seungkwan’s.

            Seungkwan just closes his eyes and hums.


	17. XMH: Just Hanging Out

_11:30 am_

Mr. Han dismisses them from third period, and for once Minghao is actually itching to leave class. Soonyoung tells him he’s got some hand sanitizer and gasoline and soap and that they’re going to hold fire today in their lab at lunch. He should be in there setting everything up now. Minghao only hopes he doesn’t have to clean up any messes, and that Soonyoung didn’t get his cast wet like he did last Friday which ruined their plans for a chromium oxide fire blizzard in the big lab across campus, as well as for leftover sushi for lunch, forgotten when Soonyoung had to go get his cast changed and then had to redraw his LOSER, pouting about the loss of the rest of his signatures.

            Minghao packs up his books, and once most people have left the room he starts out into the hallway. People are just starting to clear past him into the lunchroom and courtyard, and the door for his and Soonyoung’s lab is in sight.

            “Minghao!”

            Unfortunately, the voice didn’t come from the lab—it came from behind him. Minghao stops walking, and he pauses for half a second, thinking.

            He really doesn’t know what to do with Wen Junhui. It’s becoming clear to him now, with how Junhui has been saying little things to him, looking at him more often, even smiling at him a few times (all in the most subtle ways where his friends can’t see), that Soonyoung, along with Minghao’s own suspicions, must have been right, and that Junhui actually does like him, at least enough to have started showing him any attention. But that one little parenthesis is the catch—the friends thing. The not being seen with him thing. The not wanting to be publicly associated with him thing. If Junhui likes him, why doesn’t he just choose to acquaint with him no matter who sees? Minghao deserves that level of respect.

            He doesn’t know what he’ll say if Junhui actually asks him out this time. He doesn’t know if Junhui even knows what he’s doing.

            He takes a breath and turns around. A few stragglers are in the hallway—nobody he recognizes, and they don’t look like they’re paying any attention anyway—along with Junhui, standing in the middle of the hallway all nervous and handsome like in those bad teen romance movies.

            “Yeah?” Minghao says.

            Junhui looks like Minghao speaking made him even more nervous. “Ah…” He makes an awkward face and takes a few steps forward, still not close enough for a proper conversation, but it’s something. “I was wondering…I know this is sudden, but—” He sighs and touches his bangs briefly. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out? Later? Or something?”

            Hang out? Minghao is so tempted to say _Sure, let’s invite your friends too,_ just to see how Junhui will react, but then he thinks he shouldn’t be quite so stubborn because he already knows Junhui is uncomfortable and the poor guy doesn’t need another reason to be nervous. And, if he’s being honest with himself, Minghao doesn’t need another reason to be rejected.

            But should he say yes? It’s not that he’s not thankful for the offer of a date, or hanging out, or something. It’s just that it’s Junhui, who’s clearly out of his mind about this whole thing, and who’s stuck in prep mode any other time of day when his friends are around, and prep mode means no Minghao mode. That kind of sucks, right? Minghao shouldn’t take that, right?

            But then again, why would he be cautious about rejection in the first place if the answer was already no?

            Maybe just once—just to see. Just to see how Junhui will be with him, to give him his single chance. And if it doesn’t work out, that’ll be the end of it. Besides, Soonyoung will kill him if he hears that Junhui asked him to hang out and Minghao blew him off. With that movie-paced idealistic mind of Soonyoung’s, he’d probably rather hear that Minghao just blew him.

            Minghao keeps himself from shaking his head at the thought of his friend, then remembers that Soonyoung is waiting for him just down the hall in the lab. Decision time.

            He looks over at the nervous wreck of a cute boy a few meters in front of him and he says, “Sure.”

            Junhui’s eyes widen a little and his ( _stupid long_ ) legs shift for his feet to come together awkwardly. “Really?”

            Minghao prevents both a sigh and an unexpected smile. “Yeah.”

            Junhui smiles for him, and he nods quickly. “Okay. Yeah. Are you gonna go to the game tonight?”

            Minghao thinks that would be a way too easy out for Junhui. He’ll have to try a little harder than that. He says, “No. Come to my room at six and we’ll head into town. Building B, second floor, room seventeen.”

            Junhui blinks. His mouth opens, and then he grabs the strap of his backpack as if with determination and says, “Okay. I will.”

            Minghao nods, and maybe it’s because Junhui is so pitiful around the boy he likes, or maybe it’s because he actually wants to or something else entirely, but Minghao smiles a little at him. “See you then.”

            He turns to go, and he can practically see that bad teen romance movie scene where Junhui stands there watching him for a moment before going away still shocked but grinning, maybe pumping his fist a little in victory. Minghao doesn’t bother turning back to see. And besides—what better luck does he have than to instead see Soonyoung, standing there halfway out of the lab with his cast propping the door open, his eyes wide and his lips in that same little O.

            Minghao reaches him and raises his brows calmly.

            Soonyoung does a few double takes between Minghao and the hallway, then says, “Did he just—”

            “Don’t even,” Minghao says, walking past him into the room.

            Soonyoung grins down the empty hallway, then follows Minghao in. “Six o’clock, huh? Don’t you have a single dorm?”

 

_6:25 pm_

“How long have you been playing lacrosse?” Minghao asks.

            A café seemed easier than a restaurant, so when they made it into the city nearby they just chose the closest Starbucks and ordered drinks. Minghao watches Junhui sip his through a straw now, making a point to not focus on Junhui’s lips too much. He thought the water bottle was bad enough, and now this.

            Junhui hums and says, “Four years? I was lucky enough to go to a high school that had a team, so I started playing as a freshman there before I moved to be a freshman here.”

            “And you like it well enough, I suppose,” Minghao asks, bringing his hot tea to his lips. “Were you good from the start?”

            Junhui smiles halfway, tilting his head in a sort of cocky manner. “I think I was a star since the beginning, sure.”

            It’s interesting, Minghao thinks, how Junhui can be both nervous and confident at the same time. A lot of the confidence is automatic—Junhui is used to acting like that, and so it happens naturally now. Which is fine—he should be confident. But arrogance is another thing, and Minghao thinks he’s probably looking too closely for it. Maybe he should ease up on the red flag searching, but he really doesn’t want to get mixed up in anything with Junhui that’ll cause him more trouble than it’s worth. This is Junhui’s chance, and Minghao isn’t going to just hand over a pass with what he knows about Junhui’s typical high school niche.

            He smiles a little and says, “That’s great. It’s nice to find something you really love.”

            “Especially to carry you through the major depression of school, yeah?” Junhui says with a laugh.

            Minghao almost narrows his eyes, but just tilts his head again. “I guess.”

            If there’s one thing that Minghao already knew but is becoming even clearer now that they’ve talked for a bit, it’s that he and Junhui are on the surface very opposite people. Even just with school it’s evident. What Minghao hates about school, Junhui loves, and what Junhui hates, Minghao loves. Junhui loves the social aspect—he has lots of friends, is a sports team star, and is generally popular, but his academics suffer because of it. Minghao loves class, loves learning, loves reading and writing, but he has no—check, _one_ friend. Neither of them is necessarily right. Both ways have upsides and downfalls, both will carry them into life after school well in their own ways. But even though he wouldn’t want to be quite like Junhui, Minghao still feels little pricks of envy for his friend base and the fact that people don’t say shitty things about him. But he also wonders if Junhui envies his grades, and maybe even his alone time. The grass is always greener.

            He does wonder once in a while if they couldn’t just take down the fence that’s separating them in the first place though. Opposites attract or something, right? Really, that rides on Junhui now—if he screws up this chance Minghao is giving him or not.

            Minghao has thought maybe it was unfair of him to be this harsh, but it’s unfair for Junhui and his friends to treat people like Minghao the way they do, so…it cancels.

            Junhui’s smile falters a little bit and he clears his throat. “Yeah. Well, you’re better at school than me anyway.”

            Minghao sips his drink again and shakes his head. “Just different, that’s all.”

            Junhui nods. “You transferred here this year, right?”

            Minghao pauses. With Soonyoung, he felt totally fine being asked that question, but now with Junhui he feels like he needs to be guarded about it. This is in fact the root of all his problems when it comes to people talking about him. Maybe that’s a red flag—that he isn’t as comfortable with Junhui. But this _is_ a different situation—Soonyoung doesn’t want to date him. Soonyoung also has never said anything bad about Minghao, and neither have Soonyoung’s small circle of friends. Minghao thinks he has a right to be at least somewhat concerned for his own pride when it comes to Wen Junhui.

            He looks into Junhui’s eyes and says, “Right. Sophomore.”

            Junhui looks back for a second before shifting his gaze. “Yeah. I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before. We all come in as freshmen usually.”

            “I moved from out of state. A few hours away,” Minghao says.

            Junhui nods a bunch, sipping his drink. “Yeah, makes sense. Is it weird? Coming in late?”

            This time Minghao does squint his eyes a little, but he adjusts his glasses to hide it, to be fair. “I don’t think so. Others might.”

            Junhui taps his finger on the table, looking anywhere but Minghao’s eyes it seems. Minghao knows it’s because he’s nervous, but it also kind of annoys him. Junhui says, “Yeah. By the way, thanks for coming here with me. I didn’t have anything else tonight, so.”

            Minghao feels his drink cup bending and relaxes his hand. “Sure.”

            Junhui nods again. “Uh…do you want to go anywhere else?”

            Minghao sets his drink down on the table and puts his hands in his lap, leaning back. “That’s all right. I thought we’d just stay here and talk.”

            Junhui blinks at him. “Oh. Okay.”

            Why is it weird? It wasn’t exactly smooth from the moment they started walking out from the school together, but it’s weirder now. Maybe it’s because nothing has actually been delineated yet. Junhui still hasn’t said anything about _why_ they’ve come here together tonight.

            Minghao doesn’t mean it to come out harshly, but it still does a little. He says, “What are we doing here, Junhui?”

            Junhui visibly swallows, his big eyes getting a little bigger. “What do you mean?”

            Minghao laughs without humor and puts his hand out. “Like—what is this?”

            Junhui looks at the hand. “I don’t get what you mean.”

            Minghao laughs again, then puts his hands on his thighs. This didn’t go quite like he’d hoped. It wasn’t awful, but it didn’t really give him much confidence in Junhui. And now Junhui can’t even say his reason for bringing Minghao here? Where are they, third grade?

            He thinks Junhui’s chance is over.

            “Maybe this was a mistake,” Minghao says, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair.

            Junhui puts his drink down and watches him. “Why, we’re just hanging out.”

            Minghao pauses with one arm through. “Just hanging out?”

            Junhui shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah. Two guys hanging out.”

            Minghao laughs again and stands. “Maybe that’s why it was a mistake. I’ll catch a cab.”

            Junhui looks wide-eyed up at him, holding a futile hand halfway in the air. “Wait—why?”

            Minghao feels sorry for the both of them. Maybe he could have gone to the game tonight with Soonyoung, but by the time he got there it’d be halfway over. “I have a math test this week so I’m going to study. I’m sorry I wasted your time. Good night, Junhui.”

            He turns to walk away.

            Junhui stands and says, “Minghao, don’t say that, I—Minghao.”

            But Minghao doesn’t turn around this time either.


	18. KMG: Like Everyone Else

_6:50 pm_

“Aren’t you cold?” Mingyu asks, watching Wonwoo bounce his legs next to him on the stadium seat.

            Wonwoo shrugs his shoulders in another of his sweaters—navy blue today. Mingyu wonders what Wonwoo’s closet looks like—probably something like if a rainbow could happen at night. “I like cold weather,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu figures that’s a good enough answer. He himself is wrapped in a long sleeve shirt and a coat, but if Wonwoo says he’s fine, he’s fine. Wonwoo wouldn’t waste his time saying something that isn’t completely true.

            Mingyu asks, “Do you come to all of the football games?”

            Wonwoo keeps his gentle gaze on the field, watching the game. “Most of them. If I have a lot of studying I might miss one or two.”

            They’ve spent a bit of time together in the last week, and Mingyu is starting to realize that Wonwoo is nothing like he thought. What everyone expects from Wonwoo, and what Mingyu stupidly expected too, was a quiet loner who’s kind of emo and dark and doesn’t pay attention in class and doesn’t like anything. But Mingyu totally judged the book by its cover, and he’s coming to see that Wonwoo is just a normal person, if not a little more soft spoken and straightforward. He is quiet, but not in the sense that everyone thinks. He _does_ pay attention in class—he listens a lot more than he looks up, and Wonwoo showed Mingyu his history notebook when he asked and the amount and quality of drawings in there was kind of staggering, each one detailed and related to specific things from lectures. Mingyu could have picked any little doodle and Wonwoo would have been able to tell him most anything about that topic. And Wonwoo does like things—lots of things. He likes to draw, and literature is his favorite subject, and he likes Shakespeare and _Henry V_ is his favorite, and he likes frozen chocolate chip waffles for breakfast when he wakes up on time, and he likes cold weather, and he likes using lemon face masks the most because he likes the way they make his skin look, and he likes apple juice a lot. And he likes sweaters and bangs because they’re easy to deal with—same outfit and hair every day makes choosing obsolete. And he only looks dark because he has naturally black hair like pretty much everyone here and because his sweaters are all in deep shades and his jeans are all black, and Wonwoo says that’s because he never has to separate his lights and darks when doing his laundry.

            Everything about Wonwoo is totally unexpected, and everyone, including Mingyu, has been judging him wrong this whole time. The only thing that seems to have been correct is the loner tag, but Mingyu is also starting to think that that’s not Wonwoo’s fault.

            “Do you have friends on the team?” Mingyu asks.

            Wonwoo just laughs.

            Mingyu swallows and says, “Just like football, then?”

            Wonwoo hums. “I like coming to the games, if that makes sense. I wouldn’t watch football on TV, but it’s fun being in the stands.”

            Wonwoo likes doing things too, not because of the things but because of the doing. Mingyu only wonders if Wonwoo would like to have someone to do them with.

            Across the stands, Mingyu suddenly spots that same guy that was rude to Wonwoo before. He frowns and must make some sort of noise because Wonwoo looks at him, then follows his gaze.

            “It’s no big deal,” Wonwoo says, looking back at Mingyu.

            Mingyu looks at him and his frown melts away. “He was really rude to you.”

            Wonwoo shrugs. “He’s in my second period. He’s not as bad as he makes himself. He puts on a show for his friends.”

            Mingyu feels his neck heat up a little, knowing that he’s done just that much before, and to Wonwoo. “Oh. I guess I just didn’t like seeing it.”

            “Your fault for watching me.”

            Mingyu blinks, unsure if it’s sarcasm or maybe a joke from the way Wonwoo says it kind of monotone. He must look as confused as he is, because Wonwoo’s lips curve up a little bit again, and Mingyu feels himself smile before Wonwoo turns back to face the game.

            Wonwoo really is strange, but Mingyu finds that he likes it a lot. Who knows if that was just Wonwoo’s personality or if Wonwoo might have actually been flirting with him.

            A good play is made by their team, Seungcheol getting tackled but managing to get the ball another yard or two before touching ground. Mingyu looks down to where Jeonghan usually stands, but he’s sitting today on the edge of the stadium seat, legs and arms crossed only partially because it’s cold. He’s clearly upset again, which means they clearly fought again. Mingyu wonders why Jeonghan even came to the game at all.

            He shakes his head and says, “Yoon Jeonghan.”

            Wonwoo looks for him too, then says, “What about him?”

            Mingyu tugs his coat around himself and says, “He’s pretty annoying.”

            Wonwoo hums and tilts his head. “I don’t think so. He’s just like everyone else. Being someone he’s not.”

            Mingyu gazes at Wonwoo’s profile as Wonwoo looks down at Jeonghan. His neck warms again because now he _really_ gets what Wonwoo is saying, and it may or may not be directed at him but it does include him. A lot of people at this school and probably every high school put up a front—whether it’s the popular kid, the bitch, the slut, whatever—and Wonwoo seems to be the kind of person who can see through every single part of it. Which means he can see through Mingyu, too.

            Mingyu says, “You’re right.”

            Wonwoo tugs his sweater paws tighter and leans back against the seat behind them, accidentally touching the toes of another student’s shoes. He turns and says, “Oh—I’m sorry.”

            The other student is nowhere near as immediately rude as the first guy, but he still takes in a breath and his eyebrows say he’s about to say something not exactly kind. Mingyu looks at him and says, “If you could just move your feet a little bit, Wonwoo would like to lean back like you’re doing.”

            The kid shuts his mouth, flicks his eyes sideways realizing that he is actually leaning back, then moves his feet and says a quick sorry.

            Mingyu turns around, and Wonwoo leans back against the seat, holding his arms across his stomach.

            After a moment of quiet, Wonwoo says, “You want to put your arm around me, don’t you.”

            Mingyu sighs out the breath he forgot to stop holding and says, “Ah, I just…”

            Wonwoo scoots one bit closer and says, “Go on.”

            Wonwoo doesn’t look at him, but Mingyu can see that little curve of his lips, which somehow still look totally pink and soft and un-chapped even in this weather. Mingyu grins, and he puts his arm over the seat back, holding Wonwoo’s shoulder gently in his hand.


	19. YJH: Two Unknowns

_7:50 pm_

Jeonghan shuts the door to his dorm and sits down on the couch, dropping his backpack on the floor. He left the game early, halfway through the third quarter. He didn’t want to leave—he’s gone to every game Seungcheol has played in for three years whether he was in a good mood or not—but this time he just couldn’t sit there any longer. He feels terrible, and about more than just what happened in the hallway after school. About everything, pretty much. Sometimes it builds—the way people talk about him and the big or small fights with Seungcheol and his own thoughts. These are the kinds of times when he’s pretty sure that little feeling is some sort of depression. He has every right to be depressed, doesn’t he?

            Whatever. He knows he probably got too into his own head again. But why stay out in the cold watching your boyfriend who you just fought with for the hundredth time when you feel like total shit.

            He sits there for a while, chewing his lip. And then he pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts and taps on the name without even thinking about it first because that’s how it used to be before it wasn’t anymore.

            It rings once. Twice. Enough times for Jeonghan to decide to end the call before he either answers or the machine picks up and Jeonghan has to face the fact that he might have just been ignored. But maybe it would be equal if he was.

            He sighs hard and shakes his head, stands, picks up his backpack, and goes to his room. He tosses his backpack over near his desk and shuts the door so his weird roommate doesn’t see him alone in here and try to hug him or ask him if he’s okay like he does every damn time. _Is everything all right, Jeonghan? Do you need help with anything, Jeonghan?_ Jesus. Why does he care? Nobody cares.

            Jeonghan sighs again and flops down onto his bed, lying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. He wonders if he actually wasn’t ignored—if maybe he was just busy and if Jeonghan called back later or left a message then maybe they could talk like they used to when they were really close. But maybe he’s just kidding himself thinking like that, and he needs to just face this reality he created.

            He puts his phone down on his nightstand.

            It’ll be better tomorrow. Seungcheol will forgive him again and it’ll be back to normal until they fight again about whatever it is that time, and the cycle starts over.


	20. WJH: The Prep's Apology - Take One

DAY 54: WITHOUT YOU

 

_10:35 am_

Junhui rushes out of second period. It’s halfway across the school from his third period, and normally he wouldn’t mind getting there just before the bell, but today he has to make up for what happened before. He’s been stalling on it—he knows that all too well. He avoided Minghao the rest of last week and all this week because for some reason Minghao turns him into a total weakling and makes his heart and brain go all crazy every time he sees him. Maybe that’s why he fucked up so bad last Wednesday—why he couldn’t talk right or say the right things. He knows he must have upset Minghao a little bit, and he knows it was really awkward between the two of them, which is _so_ annoying because usually Junhui can be the life of the party any time of day. But when Minghao is there, everything goes dumb inside of him. Which is why he does his best not to let his friends see them together, because he would look like an idiot and they would think he was an idiot and also really weird for talking to Minghao at all.

            And that’s stupid, he knows that. But he can’t figure out any other way without causing himself a whole load more embarrassment than he’s already getting. If he could just get over Xu Minghao, that’d be great, but he knows that’s probably never going to happen.

            And now he’s gone and fucked up, and now he’s still just really embarrassed. And for the past week and a half, if he’s honest with himself, he was kind of being a complete pussy.

            But something came over him last night while he was thinking about Minghao and what he said. _Maybe that’s why it was a mistake._ He said that after Junhui said they were just hanging out (which he also knows was a completely idiotic thing to say because he really wants it to be more than just hanging out but Minghao made him dumb again and he didn’t want to make Minghao uncomfortable and—), which maybe means that Minghao wants it to be more than that…right? Did Minghao want it to be labeled as an actual date?

            Last night he realized these two facts: one, he likes Minghao a whole lot. And two, he _is_ a fucking idiot. He’s been doing pretty wrong by Minghao for a while now, and last week didn’t help his case at all. If he wants Minghao to ever look at him again, because he knows Minghao is not the kind of person who’s going to keep anything even slightly toxic around in his life, he’s going to have to at least apologize for last week.

            So he takes a different way to third period because his friends will go the usual way, and he walks too fast down the hallways, and people are probably giving Wen Junhui weird looks and wondering what in the world he’s doing, but this time he’ll have to just forget being embarrassed because he embarrassed Minghao more.

            When he gets to the hallway for their third period class, Minghao is pulling his jacket out of his locker. Junhui forces his legs to keep moving and walks up to him.

            He stops next to Minghao, who clearly has noticed he’s there and who turns to look at him with that cool gaze of his, and Junhui’s knees are a little weak so he puts his hand on the lockers next to him.

            “Hi, Minghao.”

            Minghao blinks through his glasses at him, then reaches back into his locker for books. “Hi, Junhui. It’s been a while.”

            Junhui imagines his heart on an ultrasound monitor, shriveling because of how stupid he knows he is. He sighs and says, “I know. And—I want to say I’m sorry.”

            Minghao holds his textbook in his arm, turning to face Junhui straight on. “For what?”

            Junhui chews his cheek. “For…for being like that last week. And for saying that it was just us hanging out. It—I mean, I do want to hang out with you but in a—a different way, if…” He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. “I just want to be comfortable with you.”

            Minghao shrugs. “It’s not a huge deal, Junhui. I just thought I’d give it a chance. It’s fine.” He closes his locker.

            Junhui shakes his head and says, “But I know I was stupid and it was weird and… I know we’re different people but I think it could work in our favor and—what am I…” He stops again, looking at the ground, unsure of where he’s going with any of this. He looks at Minghao again and says, “I just don’t want that to be my only chance.”

            Minghao’s gaze is too calm, too intense, like he’s seeing right into Junhui’s brain. He says evenly, “You couldn’t even tell me why, Jun.”

            Junhui’s heart aches at the nickname. Why did this have to be the first time Minghao called him that? Because he sucks, that’s why.

            His mouth opens to answer Minghao, to spill everything, but all that comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

            Minghao adjusts his backpack and looks away. “I don’t know, Junhui. You expect another chance. You’re going to have to show me something more.”

            Junhui practically leans forward at just the mention of a possibility of another opportunity. Minghao didn’t just say no, so…maybe that means something. He asks, “Like what?”

            Minghao does that soft, apathetic laugh like he did at the café last week and says, “Let’s just go to class.”

            So without another word, and unsure how to ever be good enough for him, Junhui follows Minghao into third period.


	21. KMG: Long Game

_11:25 am_

The last student in their history class is taking forever to turn in his exam. Mingyu keeps looking over at him, bouncing his leg, willing the kid’s pencil to go faster on the essay question. That blonde kid from the front corner went faster than this, and he doesn’t even show up half the time.

            Finally, with less than five minutes before the bell for lunch, the student gets up and turns in his test, and the class basically erupts in talking the moment Mr. Han begins to say they can.

            Mingyu turns around in his seat and smiles at Wonwoo. “You finished, like, really fast?”

            Wonwoo blinks at him and shrugs. “I just studied.”

            Mingyu looks at Wonwoo’s notebook and sees a single figure on a blank page: tall, dark styled-up hair, in jeans and a long coat, and faceless, as is Wonwoo’s style. “Who’s that?” he asks.

            Wonwoo closes his notebook and tucks in his sweater paws. “It’s not done yet.”

            That’s okay. Mingyu already knows who it was. It kind of makes his chest go fuzzy to think about it. Honestly, a lot of things about Wonwoo make him fuzzy these days. He’s been with a lot of people, probably more than he’d admit to most, and while that’s great and fun…he never really knew what it was like to actually have feelings for someone. He thought once or twice before that he liked someone that way, but now he’s realizing that it was nothing of the sort. _This_ is liking someone that way, he’s pretty sure. There’s not much about Wonwoo that he doesn’t think is cute or handsome or sweet or intriguing or some other good adjective that he can’t think of off the top of his head. Still, it’s hard to describe the feeling—how Wonwoo makes him feel.

            Either way, after spending a lot more time with Wonwoo these days, he’s pretty damn fuzzy. He wants to at least tell him as much.

            He smiles a little and nods. “Okay. Hey, Wonwoo, I—”

            The bell rings and everyone gets up from their seats, and Wonwoo starts putting away his notebook.

            “Yeah?” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu looks around for a second, then back at Wonwoo. “Uh—hold that thought.”

            “Your thought,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu laughs sort of nervously and closes up his backpack. He feels kind of scared to do it now, to tell Wonwoo how he feels. He’s pretty sure Wonwoo at least likes him back a little, but it’s hard to read Wonwoo sometimes. He might just be really _really_ nice—like, the kind of person who lets you wrap your arm around them and draws you in their notebook just for fun. Which…wouldn’t make a lot of sense, but then Wonwoo sometimes doesn’t make sense either, or Mingyu, or anyone else. If there’s one thing he’s learned from Wonwoo, it’s that he can’t assume anything anymore.

            Which is why he should probably just tell him, because if he doesn’t he might not ever find out one way or the other.

            He takes a deep breath as Wonwoo stands from his seat, then smiles at him and stands too, walking out of their classroom with him. They turn into the hallway and Mingyu stops, stopping Wonwoo, letting the other students pass by them to go to lunch.

            He faces Wonwoo and says, “Wonwoo, I have something to tell you.”

            Wonwoo looks up at him with his gentle eyes. “Yeah?”

            Mingyu feels even fuzzier just with the way Wonwoo looks at him. He smiles and looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah…well, I just wanted to say that…I like you.”

            He looks at Wonwoo again. Wonwoo only blinks at him.

            “Romantically,” Mingyu adds. “I guess. That’s kind of a weird way to put it but…” He trails off. Wonwoo is looking behind him, to the side. Mingyu turns to see.

            Among the other students still going to lunch, his friends are there, in their group of three, Minhyuk looking horrified while Hyungwon and Changkyun look actually amused, like this might be the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen.

            Mingyu looks back at Wonwoo and says, “No.”

            Wonwoo says quietly, “You’ve been lying to me.”

            “ _No_ ,” Mingyu says again.

            He turns and looks at his friends again, at Minhyuk, at the amusement and pity on their faces like behind his front Mingyu is actually the lamest person they know. He keeps looking until Hyungwon just does a laugh that Mingyu knows says _You’re pathetic_ , and he leads the other two away down the hall.

            When Mingyu turns around again, Wonwoo is walking away. He feels an electric jolt run painfully through him and he runs to catch up with Wonwoo, stepping in front of him. “Wait.”

            Wonwoo looks at him again, face blank. “You play a fine long game, Kim Mingyu.”

            Mingyu just starts shaking his head, taking Wonwoo’s upper arms in his hands. “No. Wonwoo—it’s not like that.”

            “A joke,” Wonwoo says, a simple definition.

            Mingyu doesn’t mean to squeeze his arms, but he does. “No, I swear. They have nothing to do with this. _I_ _like you_ , Wonwoo.”

            Wonwoo doesn’t answer.

            Mingyu can feel his face actually becoming more pathetic as he speaks. “Wonwoo, please. I really like you a lot. I mean it. I’ve hardly talked to them for days. What—what do I have to do to make you believe me?”

            One of the last students going to the courtyard gives them a funny glance as he walks by, but Mingyu hardly notices

            Wonwoo says, way too calm, “There’s nothing you can do, Mingyu. I’ve been lied to and laughed at all my life. You can’t expect me to just take your word.”

            Mingyu squeezes his arms again. “Let me try. Please just let me try.”

            Wonwoo sighs softly. “What are you even going to do?”

            Without thinking, Mingyu grabs Wonwoo’s face and kisses him. Their lips mush together before Wonwoo pulls away.

            “What are you doing?” Wonwoo says, some expression coming back onto his face.

            Mingyu must look like an absolute fool. What’s wrong with him? He didn’t mean to kiss Wonwoo but it just happened and how is that ever going to make Wonwoo trust him now? He stands there stammering for a second before saying, “I’m sorry, I thought—I just wanted you to know how much I like you and I—thought maybe that would work? I’m sorry.”

            Wonwoo stares at him, and Mingyu starts to hate himself a little bit more with each passing second. “Did you plan that?” Wonwoo asks.

            Mingyu shakes his head fast. “No. No, not…not really. I mean I’ve wanted to for a while but I didn’t plan to do it now. I didn’t know when I was going to or how…I’m an idiot. I’ll stop talking. I’m sorry.”

            Wonwoo looks conflicted for a moment, brows going down a little. Mingyu is about to apologize even more, get down on his knees and bow if he has to for Wonwoo’s forgiveness because he can’t believe everything was just screwed up so quickly and it’s all his fault.

            But then Wonwoo glances around and then takes Mingyu’s wrist, pulling him over to a door. Mingyu can’t speak as Wonwoo opens it, pulls Mingyu inside, and shuts the door behind him. Mingyu knows the janitor’s closet—recognizes the blatant cliché. But what he doesn’t know is what’s going on in Wonwoo’s head right now. Wonwoo flicks a switch and a dim yellow lamp flickers to life overhead in the cramped space, lighting Wonwoo’s face, sharpening his already gorgeous features.

            “Do it again.”

            Mingyu blinks at him. “What?”

            “Kiss me again. I want my first kiss to be good so that one doesn’t count. I’ll forget it if you do it again.”

            Wait…Wonwoo isn’t mad? And he wants Mingyu to kiss him again? And— “This is your first kiss?” Mingyu asks.

            Wonwoo pauses. “Yeah.”

            Mingyu looks down at him in awe. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he told Wonwoo he liked him, but this whole series of events was not it. “And…you want it to be me?”

            Wonwoo says, “Aren’t you proving yourself?”

            Mingyu nods fast. “Yes. Oh man. Now I feel pressure.” He really does. He wants this to be good because he really does like Wonwoo a lot, and realizes the extent of it now that he’d thought for a moment that Wonwoo was going to leave forever. He likes Wonwoo _way_ more than he ever thought he would when he went up to him on that stupid dare the second week of this year. And if Wonwoo is asking for a redo on his first kiss from Mingyu, it must mean he at least likes him a little bit too. Which means Mingyu better not mess this up. He feels for a moment almost as if all of his kissing experience is suddenly gone and he’ll have to start all over to get this right with Wonwoo.

            But Wonwoo smiles shyly and says, “I don’t have much to compare to besides that thing that didn’t just happen, so…”

            Mingyu blushes. “Oh yeah. I’m really sorry about that. But are you sure—”

            Wonwoo’s hands are on his face and their lips are together again before Mingyu even knows it. He immediately holds Wonwoo’s waist, pulling him up against his body. Wonwoo wraps his arms around his neck and kisses him very softly.

            Mingyu can tell that this really is Wonwoo’s first kiss. Wonwoo is shy, a little awkward, and he hardly opens his mouth at all. Mingyu thinks it’s really sweet, and he also thinks that he wants to show Wonwoo how good kissing can really be.

            He leans back just barely, but before he can say anything, Wonwoo nearly whispers, “Thank you. That was really nice.”

            Mingyu smiles and doesn’t let him go. “Open your mouth, Wonwoo.”

            Wonwoo’s eyes get big as he stares up at Mingyu. “Do you mean…I mean, I don’t know how to…”

            Jesus, Wonwoo is cute. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

            Mingyu can visibly see the pink blush spread over Wonwoo's cheekbones, even in this lighting. Wonwoo only nods.

            “Okay,” Mingyu says, adjusting his grip on Wonwoo’s sides—seemingly the perfect fit for his hands. “Just open your mouth a little and follow my lead.”

            Wonwoo slowly parts his lips, and Mingyu leans back in. He starts gently, letting his tongue touch Wonwoo’s lower lip. When Wonwoo seems more comfortable, opening his mouth a little more with each kiss, Mingyu presses his tongue inside. Wonwoo seems to startle a little in his hands, but then relaxes even more, sighing gently, letting Mingyu kiss him deeply for a while.

            Mingyu loves every moment of it, amazed in the back of his mind that Wonwoo is allowing this, _wants_ this, with him. Wonwoo is accepting of his tongue and still kisses him back at the same time, and Wonwoo tastes…

            Mingyu leaves a quick kiss on Wonwoo’s lips and says through a soft smile, “You had apple juice already today, didn’t you.”

            Wonwoo goes so red. “Y-yeah. Before class. Why?”

            Mingyu kisses him again and says, “You taste so sweet…”

            Wonwoo pauses for a split second before pushing forward and kissing harder, going up on his tiptoes. Mingyu leans back with it and hums, and Wonwoo’s teeth find his lip and tug gently before locking with his mouth again. Mingyu can’t help a quiet sound, and he kisses back so slowly.

            This may be Wonwoo’s first time making out with someone, but now that he’s more confident, Mingyu thinks he’s actually _really_ good at it. Wonwoo’s tongue is slick and soft against his and he varies the kinds of kisses he gives—chaste and close-mouthed and simple, deep and warm with lots of tongue, faster kisses that make Mingyu’s heart thump hard, barely-there brushes of the lips that have Mingyu chasing after his mouth for more. Mingyu is actually starting to get aroused and he desperately wants to sit in a chair and pull Wonwoo onto his lap or push Wonwoo up against the wall or—

            Wait.

            He pulls reluctantly away, but this is important. He says in a breath, “Wonwoo.”

            Wonwoo licks his swollen lips, and Mingyu has to bite his tongue at the sight of it to keep from doing something stupid. Wonwoo blinks up at him innocently. “Was that okay? Do I need a lot of practice?”

            Mingyu laughs a little, squeezing Wonwoo’s waist. “I wouldn’t call it practice but I definitely think we should do that very very often.”

            Wonwoo beams as much as his demeanor will allow, adjusting his glasses cutely, and Mingyu thinks it’s so adorable and he just wants to—

            He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head once. “Wait. Wonwoo. I—if this is your first kiss then does that mean…”

            Wonwoo blinks again. “Hm?”

            Mingyu shrugs one shoulder. “You know. Like…have you ever…been with someone.”

            Wonwoo shakes his head. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, no.”

            Mingyu nods, his heart doing a little thing at the B word and the thought of it with Wonwoo. “No but I mean…”

            Wonwoo seems to understand and looks down in embarrassment. “Oh. Um…yeah. I’ve never…”

            Mingyu’s not sure what he’s even doing, but Wonwoo’s lips kind of put him in a partial haze and he says, “Wonwoo, I don’t want to make any wrong judgements but…if you want, I…”

            Wonwoo stares at him, the overhead light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. “You would? With me?”

            Mingyu almost laughs. To him, that seems completely ridiculous. “Of course I would. I should be asking you that question. You’re good and I’m just a slut who—”

            “I don’t think so,” Wonwoo says. He wraps his arms a little tighter around Mingyu’s neck and says, “You’re just doing what everyone does.”

            Mingyu thinks back to the things Wonwoo has said about Jeonghan, about that student who called him a name, about anyone who puts up a front. He says quietly, “Being someone I’m not?”

            Wonwoo nods.

            Mingyu does too. Wonwoo couldn’t be more right, and he’s somehow totally wise and cynical, but still hopeful and kind. People really have everything wrong about Jeon Wonwoo. Mingyu feels a sort of foolish pride that he’s maybe the only person here who knows it.

            “I know we probably can’t be considered boyfriends yet,” Mingyu says, “since this like…just started.”

            “Did it?” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu blinks. Is Wonwoo saying that it didn’t start, or that it actually started a long time ago? “I…did it?”

            Wonwoo smiles and says, “Continue.”

            Mingyu clears his throat. Wonwoo can say two words and affect him so much. “So if—if that’s something that would make you want to wait then I understand.” He frowns at himself and says, “I’m probably asking way too soon already.”

            Wonwoo tilts his head. “Mmm…I think I trust you. I think that…you mean what you said, and that I overreacted a little bit before.”

            Mingyu shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. It’s my fault that you ever felt that way about me and believed that stuff about me. It was true. I didn’t help my case when I first talked to you by just…being a jerk, really. I don’t know why I did that.”

            Wonwoo tilts his head the other way, gazing into his eyes.

            “Someone I’m not,” Mingyu says again.

            Wonwoo smiles gently.

            Mingyu squeezes his hips again. “So…do you want to?”

            Wonwoo bites down on that amazing lower lip. “Do you?”

            Mingyu doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

            Wonwoo nods. “Me too.”

            Mingyu’s heart leaps in his chest. He really knows what it feels like to like someone now, and boy does he like Wonwoo so much. He kisses Wonwoo again, warm and gentle, and Wonwoo smiles into it. Mingyu pulls away and says, “Not here. Obviously. Your first time needs to be special. I want to take care of you. I want to make sure that…it’s good for you. I’m afraid.”

            Wonwoo touches Mingyu’s hair for a second, and Mingyu nearly shivers. “Why?”

            Mingyu has the urge to push his hands up under Wonwoo’s sweater—not to do anything, but just to feel his skin under his palms as he holds his waist. He fights it. “I’m afraid I’m going to mess everything up. What if I’m not—what if you don’t…?”

            Wonwoo smiles again, so softly. “You’ll just have to try. I know you’ll be good to me, Mingyu. You’ve shown me, and I do trust you.”

            “Oh my god.” He kisses Wonwoo again, holding him as close as he can get. “Okay. Um…when do you want to? Or, we don’t have to plan—”

            “Maybe we can have a proper date tomorrow night?” Wonwoo says. “Dinner? And then.”

            _Tomorrow?_ Mingyu thinks. Does Wonwoo really trust him that much? _Like_ him that much? With the fact that Mingyu knows Wonwoo can read people far too well, and can see everything they are at their core instead of the façade they put up for themselves, Mingyu can’t think of a better compliment he’s ever gotten than for Wonwoo to like who he is. And if Wonwoo is comfortable with tomorrow, tomorrow it will be.

            “My roommate will probably go out for a while if I ask,” Mingyu says. “He’s used to…ah…” He thinks it better if he doesn’t finish that sentence. “Do you know Junmyeon? Senior?” The words _I never could get him_ almost slip from his mouth but he shoves them away. He realizes how automatic those kinds of words have become when most of the time he doesn’t even mean them. Besides, he doesn’t think any of that matters now. “Anyway, I’ll ask him tonight. Is that okay? My dorm?”

            Wonwoo just smiles and nods again.

            Mingyu smiles back. He realizes that they’ve been standing here locked together in a janitor’s closet for a while now, not that he’s really complaining. “Hey, since we don’t have any more classes together, I want to see you again so, will you meet me in the courtyard after final bell?”

            Wonwoo asks, “Where everyone can see us?”

            Mingyu grins and kisses the corner of Wonwoo’s lips. “I hope they stare. You’re worth staring at.”

            But it’s Wonwoo who stares into Mingyu’s pretty eyes for a long time then.

            Mingyu whispers, “Should we go to lunch?”

            Wonwoo just brings his hands back to Mingyu’s face and leans in to kiss him again.


	22. BSK: Thirty-Two Days

_3:25 pm_

Final bell rings and Seungkwan nearly knocks his desk over getting out of it so fast. He starts race walking down the hallway toward the library because if he gets there fast enough he can get a private room away from everyone else to study for his psychology test on Monday in peace.

            He’s just left the classroom building and is starting down the walkway when—

            “Seungkwan! Hey!”

            Seungkwan stops, turns around, and Hansol is running—actually _running_ —across the grass, weaving around the other students leaving their classes, his wavy brown hair flying back from his forehead.

            Seungkwan shakes his head at him. “What are you doing?”

            “Just—wait!” Hansol finally makes it to him and stops, breathing heavily. “Hold on a second.”

            “I’m holding,” Seungkwan says, eyebrow raised, looking at Hansol bent over his knees.

            Hansol laughs and points at him. “Hah. You’re good at that. Looking like I’m a big waste of your time.”

            _You are_ , Seungkwan thinks. But he wouldn’t rather be spending that time on much else either. “You gonna die?” he asks.

            Hansol nods. “Definitely. Why’d you make me run?”

            Seungkwan deadpans at him. “I didn’t. Hansol, I’m trying to hurry and—”

            “Get to the library, I know.” Hansol coughs, draws in another breath, and his nostrils flare, making Seungkwan squint. “You always go when psychology has a test.”

            Seungkwan blinks. How did Hansol know that? Does Hansol pay that much attention to him? Seungkwan always thought it was just him watching Hansol, though he’d never actually admit that. How long has this been going on and he had no clue?

            “I don’t want you to be late,” Hansol continues, “so should I just ask?”

            Seungkwan gives him a look. “Ask what?”

            “If I can finally kiss you again.”

            Seungkwan sighs, trying to hide the fact that he’s suddenly amazingly nervous and his heart is beating faster. He knows Seokmin was right about the whole if Hansol makes him happy then just date thing. But they still haven’t said anything about that—Hansol is still really lax about the labeling because he can sense how uncomfortable Seungkwan is about it in general, which is really kind of him and he’s honestly just a really respectful person overall and Seungkwan couldn’t have asked for better than that and— But Seungkwan is still unsure about dating, and dating _anyone_. Not that he isn’t actually really happy it’s Hansol that he’s trying to figure out if he should date or not.

            But Seokmin was also right about Seungkwan’s attitude, and that attitude makes him say, “You’re not supposed to ask, Hansol.”

            Hansol takes in and lets out a big breath, looking like all of a sudden he’s finally caught it. “Oh. Okay.” He turns around and starts walking away.

            Seungkwan rolls his eyes, not admitting to himself that he’s kind of panicking, and is about to say something when Hansol turns back and runs toward him, waving a hand, and says, faking being out of breath, “Hold on a second!”

            Seungkwan tries not to blush. He knows what Hansol is doing, and he knows what’s coming too. He shifts on his feet in preparation. “I’m holding,” he says, but it comes out much quieter than the first time. “What is it?”

            “Can I ask you something?”

            Seungkwan rolls his eyes again. “I just said—”

            Hansol grabs his face and kisses him. It’s not a whole lot more than last time, but it does last a little longer, and it does have a little more pressure to it. And it does make Seungkwan’s eyes flutter closed and his body melt a little instead of tensing up like before. Stupid. Stupid him, stupid Hansol. Why does he feel like this for such an idiot?

            Hansol breaks their kiss, and Seungkwan accidentally leans in like he’s searching for more for half a second before wondering why he doesn’t just kick himself instead. Hansol stays close to him, holding him, and asks, “Can we not wait thirty-two days until our next kiss?”

            Seungkwan stands there looking up at him, shocked. He can’t figure out anything to say.

            Hansol lets his face go and leans back. “Also do you wanna hang out later? I can go over flash cards with you.”

            Seungkwan wishes he had that remote from that Adam Sandler movie so he could just pause everything for a second while he gets his thoughts straight. Their second kiss just happened, and it wasn’t like a movie kiss or anything but it was an actual kiss this time, and Seungkwan can’t say he isn’t happy about that. And Hansol also said that they shouldn’t wait so long until their next kiss, which means that Hansol wants to kiss him again. And Seungkwan does too—and he actually realizes that he doesn’t just want to kiss more, but he wants to kiss _more_. A better kiss. A _real_ kiss. With Hansol. And maybe that’s what Hansol means when he says they can hang out and study later, although Hansol would never take advantage of him like that. Not that Seungkwan wouldn’t—

            What the heck is wrong with him?

            What just happened?

            And did Hansol actually _count_?

            He looks at Hansol’s handsome American features and he says, “Sure. That’s fine.”

            “Great,” Hansol says, grinning. “We can meet in a dorm or wherever you want. Dinner maybe. Text me, okay? Bye, Kwannie.”

            Seungkwan half expects him to kiss him goodbye really quick before he leaves, or maybe it’s more of a hope that he will, but of course he doesn’t. He just turns, not looking back, singing some words like _Got me focused on her lips_ in English while he walks away.

            Seungkwan— _Kwannie_ , he thinks—stands there and tries to catch his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text Me by DPR LIVE is a Hansol song f with me on this


	23. JWW: The Loner's Roommate

DAY 55: LILILI YABBAY

 

_7:00 pm_

_MG: I’ll be there soon :) wear something sweatery_

Wonwoo smiles at his phone screen. He has the perfect sweater on already—a baby pink one that’s really fluffy and a little bit big. Hopefully Mingyu doesn’t die of shock. Sometimes he thinks that Mingyu is going into cardiac arrest with the way he looks at Wonwoo since he confessed yesterday, and the way he says his heart does weird things when he sees him.

            He texts back a quick okay, then goes out to his living room and sits on the couch to wait. Not a moment later the door is keyed with what seems like a struggle and flies open, and his roommate comes nearly falling into the room, tears streaming down his face.

            Wonwoo stands up immediately. “Jeonghan. Are you okay?”

            Jeonghan shoves the door closed behind him and scowls at Wonwoo, his hair sticking to the sides of his face with both sweat and tears. “It’s none of your business.”

            Wonwoo doesn’t take that as a good answer. He never does. He knows Jeonghan fairly well having been his roommate for more than two years now. It isn’t that Jeonghan doesn’t like him, and Jeonghan isn’t mean or rude either. Jeonghan is stuck—has been stuck for a long time—and he doesn’t know how to fix it. But Wonwoo can’t fix it for him, so he just does what he can to help, like asking him if he’s okay when he’s not feeling well.

            He says, “Jeonghan.”

            “Why do you even care?” Jeonghan snaps. “Just leave me alone.”

            Wonwoo goes to him.

            “What are you doing?” Jeonghan says.

            Wonwoo hugs him tight around his shoulders.

            Jeonghan squirms in his grip. “Get—what are—Wonwoo, _stop_.” He pushes weakly at Wonwoo’s chest. “Don’t touch me!”

            Wonwoo says gently, “It’s okay, Jeonghan. Just hug me.”

            Eventually Jeonghan stops squirming, and after two years of trying, Jeonghan finally hugs him back. He wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s middle, fisting his hands into Wonwoo’s sweater at the back, and Wonwoo holds him tight while he sobs into his shoulder. He rubs Jeonghan’s back, soothing in the best way he can for now, until Jeonghan’s body stops shaking and his sobbing turns into sniffles.

            Then Wonwoo says, “Tell me what happened.”

            Jeonghan’s breath hitches and he sighs against Wonwoo before leaning back and tucking his hair behind his ear. “Everything’s just messed up. I…I was at the convenience store and I was…this is stupid.” He shakes his head and his hair falls back in his face again.

            “It’s not stupid,” Wonwoo says. “Tell me.”

            Jeonghan sniffs and looks sideways. “I was buying new makeup, okay? I was running out of my eyeliner and I just needed to get some really quick. You probably think that’s dumb.”

            Wonwoo shakes his head. “I think you do your makeup really well.”

            Jeonghan looks up at him, and he looks pitiful and beautiful, his cheeks splotchy with red and his eyes shining with tears. He blinks a few times, and then says, “Oh. Thank you.”

            Wonwoo smiles at him. “Then what?”

            Jeonghan looks down again, shutting his eyes. “These guys. They came into the store and they just…they said shitty things and they called me a—a sexual slur or gender slur or whatever, just an ugly word and so I just left and I didn’t even get my makeup and I came back here and I’ve been feeling bad lately anyway and it sort of built up on me when I got to campus and so I started running and I fell on the stairs up here and—” He starts crying again and leans back into Wonwoo’s arms.

            Wonwoo lets him cry for a while longer. “Are you okay?”

            Jeonghan laughs into his sweater. “No. I’m not okay.”

            “Are you hurt, Jeonghan?” He leans back and takes Jeonghan’s hands, turning them to look at his palms. They’re red, but otherwise fine. “Anything else?”

            Jeonghan sniffs and shakes his head again. “No. I caught myself. I’m okay.”

            “All right.” Wonwoo brushes Jeonghan’s hair from his face. “I’m sorry that happened.”

            Jeonghan nods deeply. “Me too. But I’m pretty used to it by now. I’m girly, I know. But I’m still a boy, and I’m still a human being.”

            Wonwoo nods in answer.

            Jeonghan clicks his tongue, his lips trembling. “And I don’t even have anyone else to go to. My—my parents…” He coughs and doesn’t finish his sentence.

            “I get it, Jeonghan,” Wonwoo says. “Do you ever see me on the phone with my parents either?”

            Jeonghan flails his hands while he talks. “Even my sister doesn’t like me. They’ve never liked that I was gay. Our culture fucking sucks for gays or lesbians or transgendered or anyone who’s different from the norm. Anywhere, it sucks. And going to an all boys school doesn’t help at all. That’s why they sent me here, you know—to be around boys and be more like a _regular_ boy.” He laughs again and wipes under his nose. “Joke’s on them. I found Seungcheol.” He sighs heavily, and a tear drips off his cheek. “It just sucks. Everything sucks for someone like me.”

            Wonwoo says, “I know.”

            Jeonghan frowns at him again. “How would you know? How can you understand?”

            Wonwoo laughs quietly. “How do you think?”

            Jeonghan just keeps frowning for a second, but then it turns into big, sparkly eyes. “You’re…”

            “We’re the same, Jeonghan,” Wonwoo says, taking Jeonghan’s arms. “Except that I just hide while you try to be someone they want you to be. But Jeonghan, it’s taking its toll on you. We’ve been roommates for over two years now and I know I didn’t know you your freshman year, but I do know that what time I have known you, you’ve changed. But I don’t blame you for that. You’re stronger than I am. I could never work that hard to be what other people want. Which is why I’m alone every day and my parents don’t talk to me and I can’t trust people when they say they like me or even want to be my friend.” He looks into Jeonghan’s pretty eyes, trying to convey this next part with more than just words. “But I do know that if you surround yourself with people who _do_ like you, who do accept you, then you can at least be happy until everyone else comes around. Or, until everyone else learns they can suck it and shut up.”

            Jeonghan laughs, and this time he means it. He wipes his face hard. “Where did you come from, Jeon Wonwoo?”

            “I’ve been here the whole time,” Wonwoo says. “And someone else has, too.”

            Jeonghan bites down on his lip, glancing towards the door.

            “Have you talked to Seungcheol about today yet?” Wonwoo asks.

            Jeonghan pauses for a second, and then his face screws up again and he looks away to hide it. He brings the back of his hand to his mouth and says thickly, “We’ve barely talked in two days. We fought yesterday after school and then I didn’t go to the football game and we haven’t texted each other since. I feel like I made them lose. We _never_ don’t talk in a day, especially on the weekends. One time I—I heard his roommate saying bad things about me and he didn’t even say anything about it. He just said that I’m like that.” He looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, pleading. “What does that mean? Am I really so horrible?”

            Wonwoo shakes his head. “You’re not, Jeonghan.” He sighs. “Look…I know you, I think. I’m pretty good at people, believe it or not. And I understand what you’re going through and how hard it is. I know that it can make you act in ways that just aren’t you. My way was to just check out, but yours was…to fight back. Do you get it?”

            Jeonghan chews on his lip. He shrugs, but Wonwoo can see on his face that he does understand what he’s getting at. “Sort of,” Jeonghan mumbles.

            Wonwoo nods. “Yeah. And I think it’s kind of transferring. But you have to remember that he doesn’t care what other people say. Yeah? He’s with you. He loves you. Don’t let other people come between the two of you.”

            Jeonghan looks like he starts to cry again, but pulls himself out of it, waving his hands at his face. “It’s just—I’ve lost so many people because of this. The most important people to me—not just my family. I can’t—what if I mess this up too?”

            Wonwoo smiles halfway. “I don’t think you can, Jeonghan. I don’t think he’ll allow that. But you do need to talk to him about yesterday. About everything.”

            Jeonghan nods and sighs out a big breath, letting his eyes slip closed. “Wow. I’ve really fucked things up with him, haven’t I?”

            Wonwoo shrugs. “Maybe. But I think he cares about you too much to ever say no to you.”

            Jeonghan looks at the floor. “He shouldn’t take me back.”

            “Don’t say that. He loves you.”

            “I know he does. I _know_ he does.” Jeonghan’s brows go down again, this time with determination. “I don’t show him that I love him enough. Fuck. I have to apologize. I have to go find him. God, I have to run like half a mile!”

            “He’s twenty doors down,” Wonwoo says, eyebrows raised.

            Jeonghan’s face brightens, his eyes getting wider again. “I have to go!” He turns to start running, hair flying out, then stops and comes back. He hugs Wonwoo hard, rocking him backwards. Wonwoo smiles and rubs his back again before he pulls away. “Thank you, Wonwoo. I didn’t know you were cool. And gay. That’s awesome.” He gasps in a small breath and says, “And I’m sorry for treating you like shit. Apology one: I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”

            Wonwoo shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

            Jeonghan smiles sadly, but then it brightens even more. “Oh! And I think Mingyu has been checking you out, by the way. You should get on that. I mean, have you seen his face? Have you seen _your_ face!” He giggles.

            Wonwoo only smiles. “You too, Jeonghan. Come here—your eyeliner is running.” He brings his thumbs up and gently wipes under Jeonghan’s eyes, fixing his makeup as best he can. “And just know that you can talk to me about anything any time, okay?”

            Jeonghan grins and grabs Wonwoo’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Thank you, thank you, a hundred times. I’d kiss you except then Seungcheol really would leave me.” He laughs again and runs to the door, yanking it open and going out of their dorm, his hair flying out behind him. Wonwoo hears a final “Thank you!” before the door closes.

            He chuckles, smiling at the door. He couldn’t be happier that Jeonghan finally opened up to him. It was awful seeing Jeonghan like that, but things will start looking up for him now, Wonwoo is sure.

            He shakes his head and turns around to go check himself one more time, but there’s a knock on the door. Wonwoo knows it isn’t Jeonghan coming back because Jeonghan never knocks, which means it must be—

            “Hi, Mingyu,” he says, opening the door.

            Mingyu grins hugely and says, “Pink!” then bows low to Wonwoo, the bag hanging from his shoulder swaying forward. And then he stands and hooks a thumb over that shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Weirdest thing. I just saw Yoon Jeonghan sprinting down the hallway.”

            Wonwoo laughs. “Yeah.” He waves Mingyu in and shuts the door. “He’s my roommate.”

            Mingyu stares at him, mouth open a little. After a long pause he says, “Jeonghan is your roommate?”

            Wonwoo smiles, knowing that Mingyu is remembering that time at the football game when they talked briefly about Jeonghan. “Yeah.”

            Mingyu blinks and closes his mouth. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

            “Did he see you coming in here?”

            Mingyu shakes his head. “Don’t think so.”

            “Good.” Wonwoo puts his hands on his hips.

            The smile fades from Mingyu’s lips. “Good? Are you…are you embarrassed of me?”

            Wonwoo accidentally smiles at Mingyu’s sad eyes. “No, of course not. He just thinks that I haven’t even noticed you looking at me yet.”

            Mingyu laughs. “He’s a little behind, isn’t he?”

            “He’s been stuck,” Wonwoo says. “I think he’s fixing it right now.”

            Mingyu nods in understanding. “Got it. Glad we’re not right next to them.”

            Wonwoo smiles a little. “Me too.”

            “Not that we’re sticking around,” Mingyu says. He rocks back and forth on his feet, hands held behind his back, looking around with innocent eyes. “Are you ready to have our first dinner together?”

            “Our first dinner,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu grins again. “To start.”

            “Not yet. There’s something I think I should get first.”

            Mingyu nods once. “Okay. What is it?”

            Wonwoo goes to him, and Mingyu’s hands go automatically to his waist. Mingyu meets him in the kiss, humming into it, pulling Wonwoo’s hips close to his own. Wonwoo breaks it and smiles at him.

            Mingyu blinks his eyes open and smiles back. “You’re not as shy as I thought you were.”

            “Maybe I just like kissing you,” Wonwoo says.

            “I couldn’t agree more.” Mingyu kisses Wonwoo one more time. His voice becomes a little softer when he asks, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

            Wonwoo thinks about it, then nods. “Yeah. But I’m excited too.”

            “Still want it to be me?” Mingyu asks with a light squeeze of his sides.

            Wonwoo’s lips curve up and he says, “We’ll see after you take me to dinner.”

            Mingyu’s mouth opens and his eyes go wide. “Always putting pressure on me!”

            Wonwoo laughs, and he takes Mingyu’s hand, and their fingers twine naturally together as they leave Wonwoo and Jeonghan’s dorm.


	24. YJH: The Angel's Apology

_7:10 pm_

Seungcheol left his door unlocked again, but Jeonghan doesn’t have half a mind to tell him he really should lock it as he pushes it open and runs into Seungcheol’s dorm. He’s not sure he has half a mind for anything at this point. All he can think of is how badly he’s messed up, and how much he has to fix it.

            From Seungcheol’s room comes a surprised, “Uh—hello?”

            Jeonghan runs to Seungcheol’s room and comes to a halt in the doorway.

            Seungcheol is cross-legged on his bed, a math textbook and a notebook open in front of him. He looks up, confused at the sound, then even more so when he sees Jeonghan standing there, probably a complete mess from all the running and crying. “Han?” Seungcheol says.

            Jeonghan is breathing hard, the tear tracks on his cheeks drying cold in the air. “Is Jackson here?”

            Seungcheol just shakes his head, his hands poised awkwardly above his books in surprise.

            “Good.” Jeonghan goes to him, climbing up on the bed on his knees.

            Seungcheol watches him. “Hannie, what are you doing? Are you okay?”

            Jeonghan shoves Seungcheol’s books to the side, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he climbs into his lap. He says, “I’m sorry.”

            Seungcheol’s hands go reflexively to Jeonghan’s waist, but he leans back a little when Jeonghan grabs his face. “Hannie.”

            “I suck and I know that,” Jeonghan says, knowing how cheap and stupid it sounds, unable to come up with anything else. Cheap and stupid, but true. “I’m sorry, Seungcheol. I overreact and I get mad at little things and I suck. I realize it now. I’m trying to make it up to you.” He leans down and kisses Seungcheol over and over, but he can’t really tell if Seungcheol is kissing him back.

            Seungcheol says, “Jeonghan…”

            Jeonghan kisses him again.

            “Jeonghan, stop.”

            He does. Seungcheol’s hands have left his waist and are against his middle, gentle but almost pushing him away, just a little bit. Jeonghan leans back, and he looks down at those hands against him. The only thing that comes into his mind is the words _It’s over._

            He looks up at Seungcheol, and though he thought maybe he was cried out before, the tears are coming back again. He tries his best to hold them off for now, not wanting to look any worse in front of one of the few people he loves. He’s sure he isn’t managing.

            He tries to speak, but it only comes out as a small whisper. “Seungcheol?”

            Seungcheol takes his hands away from Jeonghan’s body, then sits with them awkwardly for a second. Jeonghan can tell Seungcheol is trying to figure out where to put them that they won’t be touching him. Seungcheol eventually settles on his own lap, between Jeonghan’s legs, and still the backs of his hands brush the very inner edges of Jeonghan’s thighs. For some reason, that little bit of feeling through his jeans makes Jeonghan feel nauseous.

            “We can’t…” Seungcheol starts, looking into Jeonghan’s eyes, and then sighs again, looking down. He speaks almost robotically. “We can’t just do it every time we get upset with each other and expect things to go away.”

            Jeonghan bites down inside his lip hard. His body feels tight, like that feeling bad soap leaves on your skin but _everywhere_ , squeezing his insides. His stomach aches, and that weird feeling comes to the back of his throat again. He says, “You’re upset with me?”

            Stupid. Of course Seungcheol is upset with him. He’s never said it outright like that before, but Seungcheol has probably been upset with him hundreds of times— _every_ time this happens.

            Seungcheol shrugs weakly. “I mean…yeah, Jeonghan. A little bit.” He looks into Jeonghan’s face again. “Sometimes you say things to me that…they’re not very nice. And we fight _all the time_. And you leave me after we make up and yesterday you…you didn’t come to the game. You always come to my games.”

            Jeonghan’s heart constricts. He knew he shouldn’t have done that. He knows how much pride Seungcheol takes in being captain of the football team and doing well in the games, and Jeonghan might have skipped out because he felt bad but also out of spite—spite for Seungcheol not standing up for him that morning with Jackson and who knows how many other times, spite for all the people there at the game who have said anything like Jackson said. Jeonghan is a petty, toxic person. Seungcheol should hate him. He has every right to at this point.

            An overwhelming feeling of shame drapes itself over Jeonghan’s being.

            “Sometimes it makes me wonder if you care about me as much as I care about you,” Seungcheol says.

            Jeonghan draws in a shaky breath, the tears threatening to spill over. He says again, “Seungcheol.”

            Seungcheol’s voice becomes almost too gentle. “You’re different, Hannie. Am I wasting my time?”

            Jeonghan shuts his eyes tight and lowers his head. Yes. _Yes,_ Seungcheol is wasting his time. Seungcheol would be so much better off—would have been so much better off for years now—if Jeonghan had never entered his life. Seungcheol never should have fallen in love with someone like him.

            His chest hitches when he tries to breathe, and a whimper accidentally comes out before he shuts his mouth again and swallows hard. He turns his head away, and a tear wets the place where Seungcheol’s hand brushes his leg. After a moment, he says, “I’m sorry.”

            When Seungcheol doesn’t answer, Jeonghan forces himself to look at him again, no matter how ugly he must be right now.

            Seungcheol looks even more confused, pained, and like he pities the boy sitting in his lap. “I know you are, Hannie,” he says, and rests his palms on Jeonghan’s thighs again. “But it keeps happening anyway.”

            Jeonghan sobs once, his hands coming up to his face. And then Seungcheol wraps his arms around him, and Jeonghan is terrified that it might be the last time.

            “Why don’t you just get some rest, okay?” Seungcheol says. “Just…go home and get some rest.”

            Jeonghan chokes out, “Don’t send me away. Please.”

            Seungcheol squeezes him. “I’ve got a lot to do, Jeonghan, and I…just need to be alone for a while, okay?”

            Jeonghan holds himself closer against Seungcheol, his arms squished between their bodies, his hands up and covering his face in a childlike gesture. He gasps in another breath and says, “How long?”

            Seungcheol leans back, and Jeonghan shrinks into himself. He feels the soft touch of Seungcheol’s fingertips, brushing his bangs back behind his ear. “I’ll see you later, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says.

            It comes out as a whisper, and he can’t even look at Seungcheol. “ _Please._ ”

            Seungcheol says, “Come on.”

            In the next moment, Jeonghan is on his feet and Seungcheol is leading him to the door, holding his hand. Jeonghan is forced to let go when Seungcheol opens the door and ushers him back into the hallway. He doesn’t know—he can’t seem to see through his tears—if Seungcheol looks at him or not before he shuts the door.

            He walks back to his dorm, tears falling silently now. He opens the door and shuts it gently, locking it behind him. He turns around and says, “Wonwoo?”

            He stands there and wipes his eyes, looking around the living space. Empty.

            He goes to Wonwoo’s door and peeks inside. “Wonwoo? Please answer me.”

            Empty. Wonwoo is probably out with people he likes and who like him. Jeonghan isn’t sure if he knows the feeling anymore.

            He sits down on the floor, and his hair falls back into his face, and he cries.


	25. KMG: A Mix of Red and Granny Smith

_7:45 pm_

“It’s too bad this place doesn’t have apple juice, huh?” Mingyu says.

            Wonwoo smiles at him across the table, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

            “I’ll probably get cola,” Mingyu says, looking down at the restaurant menu.

            Wonwoo nods. “Me too.”

            On cue, their waiter comes over and asks for their drink order. Mingyu smiles and nods at Wonwoo to go first.

            Wonwoo puts his hands in his lap, his collarbones showing out of his sweater again, and looks up at the waiter. “Just cola, please.”

            The waiter nods and turns to Mingyu. “Can I get a glass of ice?” Mingyu says.

            The waiter’s eyebrows do a skeptical thing, but he says it can be done and goes to get their drinks.

            Wonwoo’s eyebrows say something too, lifting on one side in question.

            Mingyu grins. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to you.”

            Wonwoo holds back a smile and says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” as he flips his page in the menu.

            Mingyu watches him for a while, admiring…pretty much everything about him. If he had to come up with a word for how he feels, he thinks smitten would be the most fitting one. It had been building since he first talked to Wonwoo back in their second week of the semester, but after yesterday things sort of skyrocketed into this cloudy dreamspace where he finds himself floating, gazing at Wonwoo all the time, aching to kiss him often, and smiling every time he looks at him. He knows logically that this intensity won’t last forever, but he doesn’t care about time right now—he is content to allow this to go on for as long as it possibly can. Wonwoo _made_ him smitten, and since Wonwoo isn’t going to change—because Wonwoo is already everything he’s supposed to be—Mingyu doesn’t see his feelings changing any time soon either.

            And the new fluffy sweater definitely doesn’t help.

            “I’m really digging the pink, by the way,” he says, pretty sure he’s been doing another one of those things where he stares at Wonwoo long enough that his eyes start drying out. “What happened to only dark?”

            Wonwoo looks up at him blankly and says, “This is my special occasion sweater.”

            Mingyu is getting better at recognizing Wonwoo’s jokes. They’re amazingly dry—sort of a relief when he’s so used to the kind of jokes that high schoolers usually make. When he laughs at Wonwoo’s jokes, he actually means it. Like now.

            “Just kidding,” Wonwoo says. “My brother sent me this one, too. The red and pink ones came on Valentine’s Day with a note that said at least the sweaters would make a cute couple.”

            Mingyu sticks out his lower lip. “Aw. Maybe I should wear the red one then?”

            Wonwoo’s lips curve up and he tilts his head. “If you want.”

            A weird bubbly feeling goes through Mingyu’s body at the thought of wearing Wonwoo’s sweater, of having a couple outfit with him. He takes a deep breath and asks, “Do you know what you want to have?”

            Wonwoo hums and looks at the menu. “I don’t know. Anything.”

            “Anything but seafood,” Mingyu says, remembering when Wonwoo told him about his allergy. They’re at an Italian place, and he can’t figure out half the words on the menu, but he definitely recognizes one thing. “Do you want to split a pizza?”

            Wonwoo laughs softly and closes his menu. “Sounds good. What kind?”

            Mingyu leans in closer to the pizza menu. “Something fancy.”

            The waiter comes back with cola and a glass of ice, setting them down. Mingyu closes his menu and thanks him, and orders a margherita pizza to share.

            When the waiter goes, Mingyu smiles at Wonwoo again and reaches beside him into his bag. “I think my English is getting better,” he says, opening his bag and pulling out a bottle. He holds it up and grins big. “Tada.”

            Wonwoo smiles and adjusts his glasses. “You didn’t have to.”

            Mingyu twists the cap off the apple juice with a snap. “Of course not. But you push your glasses up on your nose when you’re thankful for something and I think it’s really cute.” He pours the juice into the glass of ice, filling it to the top.

            Wonwoo smiles again. “Do I?”

            “Mhm. One more thing.” Mingyu reaches back into his bag and pulls out a pink bendy straw. “A coincidence it matches your sweater.” He sticks it in the glass and picks it up. “Good?”

            Wonwoo brings his arm up and his hand slips free of one sleeve as he picks the cola glass up, handing it over to Mingyu, taking the juice. “Thank you, Mingyu.”

            Mingyu practically shivers. He loves hearing Wonwoo say his name. “Of course. I hope it’s the right kind.”

            Wonwoo takes a tentative sip. He blinks and says, “Totally wrong. I can tell this was made with McIntosh instead of a mix of red and Granny Smith.”

            Mingyu’s lips part. “You must be quite the connoisseur.”

            “I am,” Wonwoo says, nodding seriously. “And this tastes like apple juice, so.”

            They laugh together.

            As Wonwoo sips his juice some more, Mingyu rubs his hands on his thighs and says, “I want to cook for you some time.”

            Wonwoo hums. “You did say you like cooking.”

            “But alas,” Mingyu says.

            Wonwoo nods. “No kitchens. I hear the student body president’s dorm has one.”

            Mingyu’s brows go up. “Really? Jisoo is lucky.”

            “Jisoo is a hard worker.”

            “True,” Mingyu says. “And a really nice guy. I should talk to him more often.”

            Wonwoo tilts his head. “I saw you hug him once—or, put an arm around him. You asked what he was doing that weekend.”

            Mingyu’s cheeks tinge pink. Does Wonwoo really remember that far back, before he and Mingyu ever started talking? “Ah. That was a joke.” He waves a hand and says, “The weekend part. Not the arm thing. I like hugs.” What is he even saying.

            Wonwoo laughs quietly. “I like hugs, too. I haven’t been hugged in a long time.”

            Mingyu just stares at him for a moment. He says, a little quieter than he meant, “I promise I’ll hug you later.”

            Wonwoo smiles and nods, bringing his straw back to his lips.

            In the moment where Mingyu is thinking of something to say, he starts thinking about tonight instead. They’ve planned it—at least, they’ve planned that it’s going to be happening. Mingyu feels almost like he did when kissing Wonwoo yesterday for the first time—like all his experience doesn’t matter now because it’s going to be so different with Wonwoo. And it’s been a while anyway—something like three or four weeks since he’s been with anyone like that (much longer than he’d usually spend in between), because of Wonwoo. Minhyuk has confronted him a few times about it—sent him a full screen of text yesterday after school—but Mingyu hasn’t known what to say. He likes Wonwoo, and he and Minhyuk _aren’t_ dating, and that should be enough. Eventually he’ll get to it. Right now, his focus is Wonwoo.

            And tonight, and what they’ve planned to do together, and the fact that it’s the first time Wonwoo will ever be intimate with someone sexually—maybe even at all—and the last thing Mingyu wants to do is ruin it and make it a bad experience and a bad memory that Wonwoo will carry with him for the rest of his life.

            Before he thinks about it, Mingyu draws in a quick breath and says, “So tonight—”

            “We don’t need to talk about it,” Wonwoo says. He sets his glass down, puts his hands back in his lap, and smiles again at Mingyu. “I think you’re more nervous than I am.”

            Mingyu heaves out a sigh. “I’m really nervous, Wonwoo.”

            Wonwoo does something close to a giggle, and his nose crinkles up for a split second, and Mingyu’s heart just about explodes. “Don’t be,” Wonwoo says. “I’m excited. And it’s obvious that you care a lot about this, about having it go well. About me.”

            Mingyu bites down on his lip, holding Wonwoo’s gentle gaze.

            “Whatever happens, I’m still glad that it’s you,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu has to actively keep his body from melting to the floor of the restaurant. Why does Wonwoo have to be so kind to him? Mingyu could screw everything up and Wonwoo would probably still put a smile on and say everything’s okay. But Mingyu will _not_ screw everything up. Tonight is going to be a deliberate, careful thing between them, and Mingyu is going to make sure with every fiber of his being that Wonwoo is comfortable and happy. Wonwoo deserves that.

            “And remember that I’m a blank slate,” Wonwoo says. “It’s not like I’ll know if you do something wrong.”

            Mingyu laughs nervously. “I definitely don’t want to do anything wrong.” He nods or maybe bows his head and says, “I’ll do my best, Wonwoo. I promise.”

            Wonwoo does that same smile. “I know you will, Mingyu. I’m thankful for you. I mean—” He pauses and brings a hand to his glasses, pushing them up his nose. “I’m thankful for you.”

            The smile that spreads over Mingyu’s lips is the most genuine he’s ever felt. “I’m thankful for you, too. And we have to get dessert tonight.”

            Wonwoo picks up his juice again. “Why?”

            Mingyu counts on his thumb and forefinger. “One, it’s delicious and it’s our first date and I want to treat you. And two, I kind of want to feed you a bite of something chocolate because romance.”

            Wonwoo laughs again, bringing a paw to his bangs and brushing them down.

            “And also…” Mingyu looks at the table. “Because you always taste so sweet, and later…”

            Wonwoo nods. “Much better than pizza.”

            Mingyu blushes, smiling. “Definitely.”

            “Well,” Wonwoo says. “As far as their chocolate stuff goes, mousse is sexier but I like cake better.”

            Mingyu grins, already imagining Wonwoo plucking the cherry off the top and popping it into his mouth. “Cake it is.”


	26. CSC: The Quarterback's Dilemma

_7:30 pm_

For some reason, a simple four-term polynomial equation has never been so impossible to solve as right now. He can’t even figure out the first step. Seungcheol drops his pencil down on his notebook and shoves his hands in his hair.

            He’s not totally sure what happened twenty minutes ago. He’s not sure why Jeonghan suddenly burst into his dorm and, for the first time _ever_ , apologized to him. He should be thankful, shouldn’t he? It should have changed things between them, right? But it didn’t. When Jeonghan said he was sorry, it isn’t that Seungcheol didn’t believe him—because he _did_ , and he does think that Jeonghan meant it. His emotions were enough to prove that much. But somehow…it wasn’t enough. Why does Seungcheol still feel like something is missing?

            Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s because he can’t figure it out—because he can’t figure out Jeonghan. Jeonghan is sorry, but what made him suddenly apologize? And what was it that Jeonghan was actually apologizing for?

            Seungcheol thinks that might be the missing piece—the reason. The reason for that apology, and the reason for any of what’s been going on between them for years now happening in the first place. But he doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t think Jeonghan knows either. Or, if he does, he can’t get to it.

            So no—he’s not sure exactly what happened, but he does know that now he feels like total shit. He regrets sending Jeonghan back out, but he also doesn’t. He wanted to keep Jeonghan close and kiss and make up like usual, but he also didn’t. It hurt him a lot to see Jeonghan like that, and the worst part was that he didn’t know how to fix it. Kissing and making up would have only been another temporary stalling of whatever the real problem is. They’ll have to go deeper than this to ever get this cycle they’re in to break.

            The door to their dorm is opened again, and this time Jackson calls out, “Hey.”

            Seungcheol sits up and leans to look out his door. “Hey, man.”

            Jackson comes by with his jacket slung over one shoulder. He looks at Seungcheol and makes a face. “What’s wrong with you?”

            Seungcheol looks down at himself. Everything’s in order. Must have been his face. He shakes his head and says, “Nothing.”

            Jackson nods. “All right,” he says, and starts to walk away.

            “It’s Jeonghan,” Seungcheol blurts, and then isn’t really sure why. His friends don’t have the kindest opinions of Jeonghan. They don’t dislike him, but they don’t see him the way Seungcheol sees him either. But this is high school—what can he do?

            Jackson lifts a cool eyebrow at him. “Not surprised.”

            Seungcheol looks down at his books. “Yeah.”

            “Are things bad?”

            Seungcheol shrugs. “No worse than usual.” But maybe that’s not true anymore. Maybe it’s all coming to a point now.

            “That kind of sucks, dude,” Jackson says. “Hasn’t it been long enough?”

            Seungcheol frowns. Breaking up is not on his list of options right now. If he can’t figure it out, he’ll wait it out. He won’t give Jeonghan up that easily, even if it has already been three years.

            “It’s been like three years,” Jackson continues. “You’ve put up with him for—”

            “You know, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about, man. Yeah it’s been three years, and we’re _still_ together. And things aren’t perfect, but I _am_ actually in love with him if you didn’t notice, and I know he doesn’t appreciate you guys saying he’s annoying and shit like that and honestly I don’t either so if you could treat him with the respect that a human being deserves then maybe that would at least be a step in the right direction and he wouldn’t have to be so damn cynical and upset all the time.”

            Seungcheol sits there breathing, looking into Jackson’s eyes, a little surprised at himself for all of that. He’s never gone off on one of his friends before, but he can’t say he hasn’t wanted to. He _does_ love Jeonghan, and he’s tired of people treating him poorly. They treat him poorly, and it makes him act poorly, and so people treat him poorly, and it’s a self-sustaining feedback loop that Jeonghan is completely stuck in. Maybe if people were nicer to him, things would be different. Sometimes Seungcheol thinks he’s the only one who treats Jeonghan well. Maybe that’s because he’s the only person who knew how Jeonghan was before.

            Wait…no. He _isn’t_. He isn’t the only one. Suddenly, an idea forms in his head, and it might at least be able to help, as long as he can figure out how to find him.

            “Dude.”

            Seungcheol flicks his eyes back to Jackson, realizing he probably looks like a crazy person all of a sudden. He clears his throat as Jackson looks weirdly at him.

            “Sorry,” Jackson says. “Really.”

            Seungcheol’s chest loosens a little. “Oh. That’s—thanks. Sorry for—that. Didn’t mean to yell.”

            “That wasn’t yelling,” Jackson says. “And you’re right. We just…” He shrugs. “We’re high school guys, you know? And Jeonghan—he’s different. I’ll try to talk to the guys about it. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Or his.”

            If Seungcheol had known it would be that easy, he might have said something a long time ago. He should have said something anyway, whether it was hard or not. He hasn’t done as well by Jeonghan as he should have been, and it’s affecting them just as much as whatever the source of the problem is in the first place.

            The thought that he can start doing better now plus his roommate’s promise to change makes him feel suddenly a whole lot better, and a whole lot more motivated. They have to figure this out. They love each other—madly _,_ from the start. They’re going to have to work together to fix this.

            But if there’s one thing Seungcheol does know about Yoon Jeonghan, it’s that he is immensely stubborn. Jeonghan has never broken down quite like tonight, but he has had emotional outbursts before, and afterwards he usually closes up further for at least a few days, refusing to talk or at least talk like adults. It probably won’t be any better now that Seungcheol has actually sent him away from his dorm this time. But Seungcheol doesn’t want to wait a few days. It’s been a few _years_. It’s time to change things—to try to get them back to where they were before…whatever this is.

            But now, he finally has a place—a person—where he can begin.

            He allows himself to smile and says, “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it. Jeonghan would, too. Will.”

            Jackson nods again. “Homework? Need help?”

            Jackson is advanced to college level in math—calculus. Maybe he understood how Seungcheol felt so easily because he’s smart. Seungcheol really wishes the rest of the guys on the team were like that—the team, and in this academy. He wishes that for Jeonghan.

            He looks down at his notebook, and it’s as though the first step of the equation formulates right on the page for him. He smiles and says, “Nah. I think I know where to start.”


	27. XMH: Consolation

_8:00 pm_

Minghao’s phone dings on his bed. He looks over at it, then gets up from his desk and swipes it open.

            He wonders for a moment if he should be regretting giving Junhui his number yesterday. But after Junhui came and apologized to him, Minghao sat through class feeling kind of bad about being so curt with him. Because Junhui _did_ apologize—not very well, and not for enough, but he apologized. And it didn’t help Minghao’s itching of guilt when he’d turned around once during lecture to see Junhui looking pretty despondent over at his desk. It made him realize that he is actually affecting Junhui a good amount, and maybe it would do better for him to be a little bit nicer.

            So after class, he went to Junhui again and offered his number, and the look on Junhui’s face—the way he immediately perked up and also looked like he could beg forgiveness from Minghao at any moment should he ask—at least made Minghao feel a little bit better, even if it was kind of in a twisted way.

            He still hasn’t decided if he’s going to give Junhui another chance or not. Junhui hasn’t had much time since yesterday to prove himself anyway, so Minghao figures he can wait a little bit longer.

            Junhui’s text reads _hey_.

            Minghao sighs and taps into the text box.

            _MH: hey_

_JH: how’d the test go for you?_

Minghao’s pretty sure he got an A. He wonders how Junhui’s grade will compare, especially after that whole thing before class. He feels another quick pang of guilt, hoping that he didn’t affect Junhui’s test taking.

            _MH: I think it went well. you?_

            _JH: not sure. do you remember the question about the Constitution of the Clergy?_

_Civil Constitution_ , Minghao thinks.

            _MH: yeah_

_JH: what did you get?_

Minghao thinks about it, knowing the answer right away but trying to remember the letter.

            _MH: B_

_MH: Pope Pius VI_

He waits for a moment for Junhui’s answer to come through.

            _JH: crap_

_JH: I put IV_

_JH: that stuff was from like five weeks ago? doesn’t that count as a trick question? what if I’m dyslexic? was there even a Pope Pius IV????_

Minghao smiles and shakes his head at his phone screen. He starts to type _that would make sense_ , but then clears it.

            _MH: idk I just memorized it_

_JH: can I have some of your memory please_

Minghao smiles again.

            _MH: not for sale_

_JH: dang I need it lol_

_JH: anyway yeah_

_JH: thanks. it was bugging me. now I’ll know for the final_

_JH: if I can remember it_

Minghao laughs softly and is about to toss his phone back on the bed when one more message comes.

            _JH: see you on Monday, Minghao_

Minghao sighs again looking at it. This isn’t enough—nowhere near enough for him to let Junhui have another chance. But at least it’s a start, and Junhui isn’t being weird over text.

            Is he justifying this for Junhui? Or for himself?

            Minghao imagines Junhui suddenly—lying on his bed in his dormroom alone, all of his books still in his backpack and nothing but his phone in his hand, texting Minghao when he’s not even studying. Minghao wonders if Junhui even got that question wrong in the first place.

            He holds his phone up again and types _bye Jun_ , and then deletes half.

            _MH: bye_


	28. BSK: Brown M&Ms Pink Hair

_9:15 pm_

“A belief that leads to it’s own fulfillment,” Hansol reads.

            Seungkwan nods—he knows this one. “Self-fulfilling prophecy.”

            Hansol flips the flash card over to check. “Yep. That one’s kind of self-explanatory, yeah?”

            Seungkwan shrugs and picks a few M&Ms out of the bowl between them on the floor. “That’s fine with me if it goes on the test that way.” He looks in his palm and frowns at an orange one.

            Hansol puts his arm out, and Seungkwan drops it in his hand. Hansol pops the M&M in his mouth and says, “I really can’t taste the difference.”

            Seungkwan eats a blue one and says, “Something about the dye. They taste bad.” He holds up a brown one and says, “These are the best,” and eats that one too.

            Hansol goes to the next flash card. “The tendency for observers to underestimate situational influences and overestimate dispositional influences upon another’s behavior.” He laughs and says, “What.”

            “The fundamental attribution error,” Seungkwan says, and Hansol nods when he checks the card.

            “Example?”

            Seungkwan hums, watching Hansol put down the cards and pick up the bowl of M&Ms. “You’re driving on the highway, okay?” Seungkwan says. Hansol nods and pokes through the candies, picking out all the orange ones. “And suddenly a car just goes zooming past you, like, twenty over.”

            Hansol raises his eyebrows and puts the orange ones on the floor in a pile. “Oh?” He starts searching for browns.

            Seungkwan looks at him for a second, wondering why Hansol would do something like that for him when it’s not even necessary and he didn’t even ask. Hansol continuously shows him what a thoughtful and just really nice person he is. Seungkwan blinks and says, “Yeah. And so your first thought is, wow, what a rude and unsafe driver, right?”

            Hansol shrugs. “Maybe. They could be in a hurry for something. Maybe some guy is driving his wife to the hospital cause she’s in labor. So he’s acting badly because of what’s happening around him that’s out of his control. Even though normally he wouldn’t be like that.”

            Seungkwan blinks at him again, eyes wider. That’s literally exactly the part that Seungkwan didn’t get to yet. That’s the error—the fact that most people don’t think of the other alternatives. But Hansol didn’t commit it. Hansol considered that maybe it wasn’t a bad person, but just a difficult situation.

            Seungkwan says quietly, “Wh…yeah. That’s…the point. I was going to say that, actually. People assume that the driver has a less than desirable disposition—he’s rude—instead of considering other situational factors.”

            Hansol looks up and grins like he doesn’t realize he just proved something pretty important to Seungkwan. “Yeah? I ruined it.”

            Seungkwan just shakes his head, watching Hansol put the bowl back down, only the other four colors left. “No, you…you got it.” Hansol holds his hand out in a fist. Seungkwan lets him drop all the brown M&Ms into his palm. “Thank you.”

            “Next one?” Hansol says, picking the cards back up.

            Seungkwan only nods.

            Hansol reads, “A pattern of thought or behavior that organizes categories of information and the relationships among them.”

            Seungkwan’s brows come together. “Oh. I know this one.” He thinks for a second, then brings a hand to his forehead. “Ah—I can’t remember. I think it’s one I forget a lot.”

            “Should I tell you?”

            Seungkwan nods.

            Hansol flips the card and says, “Schemas?”

            Seungkwan clicks his tongue and squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah, that’s it. Why can I never remember?”

            “These affect memory, both recall and recognition,” Hansol says, looking at the card then dumping all the orange M&Ms in his mouth at once.

            Seungkwan shakes his head at him. “Yeah, I wrote that because my teacher said it would be on the test. I can’t remember well, though.”

            Hansol covers his mouth and hums, getting a look on his face. “Actually—” He pauses, chewing, his words too mushy. Eventually: “Actually—I might be able to give an example. I think I saw it on a TV show once.” He swallows and snaps his fingers. “Yeah—Sofia showed me a while back. She’s like ten times as smart as me so.”

            Seungkwan smiles a little. Hansol talks about his sister a lot, complimenting her all the time, and since Seungkwan has two sisters of his own, he likes listening. He misses his sisters a lot, but he thinks that Hansol might actually miss Sofia more. Seungkwan wants them to all meet one day and hang out. But of course, that would involve him introducing Hansol to his parents.

            “There’s kind of a game we can do to test it if you want,” Hansol says, “but you have to write stuff down.”

            Seungkwan just eats an M&M as an answer.

            Hansol laughs. “Same. I’ll just explain it then. So—basically I would read off a list of words to you, like…note, piano, sound, rhythm, melody, orchestra, symphony, drums, guitar, radio. Yeah?” Seungkwan hums and nods. “And then I would ask you to write down as many as you can remember. And then I would show you a list of the words, and you would rate them from 1-4 on how sure you are that I said them. But on the list I showed you would be the word _music_ , okay?”

            Seungkwan lifts an eyebrow and looks up. Maybe he’s starting to remember.

            “And the point is that lots of people end up either writing down music or scoring music pretty high on the list, thinking they remembered it. Do you get it?”

            Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Yeah—the schema is like…music and stuff related to it. And since you said a bunch of words related to it, people automatically think of the word music because it’s in the schema—the top of the category, basically.”

            Hansol grins and nods. “Exactly.”

            Seungkwan closes his eyes and puts his fingers to his temples. “Music, schema. Music, schema.”

            Hansol laughs. “Ah, I’m glad I helped at least a little.”

            Seungkwan opens his eyes and smiles at him. “You did. Thanks, Hansol.”

            Hansol sighs and picks up the cards again, shaking his head. “You’re really pretty when you smile.”

            Seungkwan blushes like he does when Hansol says little things like that. He looks down. “Ah…”

            “And your hair looks really cute tonight.”

            Seungkwan brings a hand up immediately to cover his bangs. What? He literally just showered before Hansol came over and didn’t even blow it dry. It probably looks like a total mess. He should have listened when his mom told him not to bleach it, but he likes light brown, and he wanted to do dusty pink one time. He never got to that, and now he has to style it every day or else it looks frizzy and damaged. Like now.

            “It looks funny,” he mumbles.

            Hansol makes a face. “No it doesn’t.”

            Seungkwan brushes his fingers through it. “It’s frizzy and weird.”

            Hansol chuckles. “You look great, Kwannie. It’s just hair.”

            There’s that nickname again—that one that makes Seungkwan’s belly feel all fluttery inside. And another compliment. He shrugs. “Yeah. I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s stupid I take my time to do it every morning anyway. You probably wake up like that.”

            Hansol’s eyes cross when he tries to look at his own hair. He hums and says, “Yeah. But my hair is naturally wavy anyway. And I like it when you curl your bangs. It’s cute.”

            Seungkwan wants to say _Which way is cuter?_ but he doesn’t have the confidence. He just looks at Hansol.

            “Both ways,” Hansol says. Or if you straighten it, or if you part it. They all look good. And who cares if you do your hair? It’s not, like, girly or anything. Jeonghan wears makeup, right? And Minhyuk wears chokers and is kind of feminine in a sense.” He waves his hand at Seungkwan and says, “It’s like that. You do whatever you want whether you’re a boy or a girl or whatever.”

            If Hansol could stop being like this, that would make Seungkwan’s life a whole lot easier. But maybe also a whole lot sadder, and he likes being happy. Seokmin was right—this really is the best way.

            “I wanted to do pink,” he confesses. “Like…rose gold.”

            Hansol’s pretty eyes get bigger. “Really? You totally should! That would look so great on you. Perfect for your skin.”

            Seungkwan blushes again. “Maybe soon.”

            Hansol grins. “I can’t wait. Should we keep going?”

            Seungkwan nods and puts his last M&M in his mouth.

            Hansol reads the next card. “Implicit thinking that—”

            “Automatic processing,” Seungkwan says.

            Hansol blinks at him and checks the card. “Yeah. Knew that one.”

            Seungkwan nods. “System one,” he says, and then yawns really big and covers his mouth with both hands.

            Hansol smiles softly at him. “It’s getting late, huh?”

            Seungkwan sighs and looks at his alarm clock. “Almost curfew.”

            “We can pick this up tomorrow if you want,” Hansol suggests. He finds the rubber band for Seungkwan’s flash cards and starts putting them together.

            Seungkwan hums and nods. “Okay. Thanks for studying with me again already.”

            Hansol places the cards down. “You got an A on yesterday’s test so something must be working.”

            Seungkwan laughs a little and nods. “Must be.” He stands, and Hansol does too.

            They walk out to the dorm’s small foyer where Seungkwan’s roommate is on his tablet on the couch. “See you later, Eunkwang,” Hansol says.

            Eunkwang turns and smiles at him. “You too, Hansol. You’re welcome any time.”

            “That’s up to me,” Seungkwan says, and the other two laugh.

            Hansol follows Seungkwan to the door. He stands in the doorway when Seungkwan opens it. “See you tomorrow, Kwannie,” he says.

            “Good night, Hansol.” Seungkwan doesn’t close the door then, standing there and looking up into Hansol’s face for some time.

            Luckily—or maybe rather unfortunately—Hansol knows him pretty well by now, and he smiles and takes a step forward to kiss Seungkwan once. He stays close and says, “Good night, Seungkwan,” and then goes down the hallway without looking back.

            Seungkwan watches him for a moment before closing and locking the door.

            “Only one?” Eunkwang calls.

            Seungkwan sighs. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. Maybe he wants more than one. A bunch more than one. Or just _different_ ones. He doesn’t know how to bring it up without embarrassing himself, and he doesn’t know if Hansol gets that he wants that or not, and Hansol isn’t going to just assume or push it on him. What is he supposed to say? I want to make out with you? That’s weird. It’s supposed to just happen, but Seungkwan has to be the one to do it, and he’s both inexperienced and super nervous.

            He says, “You’ve been talking to Seokmin.”

            Eunkwang does a _pff_ and says, “You could talk to anyone at this point. The whole school knows how much he likes you.”

            Seungkwan stares at the back of his roommate’s head.

            “Really,” Eunkwang says. He turns and smiles at Seungkwan. “Now get some sleep. It’s almost curfew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else know what I’m saying when I say the orange ones taste different?? I can tell you which color M&M it is just by taste—ask my sister we’ve done it before—and orange tastes terrible pls can anyone else taste it or am I just crazy


	29. KMG: Promise Me

_9:00 pm_

“But I’m still going to look for one. It would match your dazzling personality,” Mingyu says. He laughs as Wonwoo gives him a flat look, and opens the door to his dorm, letting Wonwoo go inside first. “Besides.” He closes the door and turns to Wonwoo in the dim, the only light coming from the street lamps outside the dorm hall. He puts his key on the table he and his roommate keep by the door and says, “Pale yellow would look really good on you.”

            “Would it?” Wonwoo asks.

            Mingyu smiles and nods.

            Wonwoo gazes up at him. “Thank you for taking me, Mingyu.”

            Mingyu shakes his head. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

            He steps toward Wonwoo and they kiss once, lips pressing together gently. They lean naturally into the hug after that.

            “Really,” Wonwoo says over Mingyu’s shoulder, much quieter. “Thank you.”

            Mingyu hugs him a little tighter. He promised Wonwoo this hug, and it’s both easier and better than he expected. Wonwoo feels so dainty and weightless against him, but warm and soft with his big sweater. It’s a good hug—a full-bodied, meaningful hug. Everyone who hasn’t hugged Wonwoo in however long it’s been has really missed out. Even if Wonwoo were to change his mind about tonight, Mingyu would be happy just for this.

            Mingyu says, “Wonwoo…”

            Wonwoo leans back and gives him a small smile. “Shoes by the door?”

            Mingyu nods, and they pull apart for a moment to leave their shoes neatly by the wall, Mingyu draping his coat over the table as well.

            His heart is already starting to race. There’s nothing else they have to wait for—they’re done with dinner and they’re here, in Mingyu’s dorm, where they’ve planned to be together for the first time, and for Wonwoo’s true first time. Mingyu wishes he could read Wonwoo as well as Wonwoo can read him, just so he could see if Wonwoo is more nervous than he says or not. Just because they planned it doesn’t mean they have to do it. Mingyu wants to be totally sure that Wonwoo is ready.

            He stands from straightening his shoes next to Wonwoo’s and says, “I want to make sure that you—”

            Wonwoo cuts him off with another kiss. For a while, he won’t move away, but Mingyu isn’t complaining. He takes hold of Wonwoo’s waist again and pulls him close, and their kisses become deep and heavy, enough to make Mingyu’s body react quickly.

            Wonwoo finally pulls away for a second, and Mingyu says thoughtlessly, “You do taste like chocolate.”

            “Don’t worry about me,” Wonwoo says. “I’m sure.”

            Mingyu chews his lip and nods. “Okay. Do you want to go then?”

            Wonwoo takes his arms away from Mingyu’s neck and puts his hand out. “Show me.”

            Heart beating out of his chest, Mingyu takes Wonwoo’s hand and leads him to his bedroom. The shades on his window are only half drawn, and the light from the street lamp casts a wash of pale blue over the middle of the room, putting the space above his bed in a dreamy haze. Of course it’s a beautiful night. Mingyu couldn’t ask for anything better for Wonwoo.

            “You’re tidy,” is the first thing Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu smiles. “Thank you.” He ushers Wonwoo to his bed and Wonwoo sits in the middle, crisscross, while Mingyu goes to a drawer before he can let his mind tell him anything else or make him more nervous. Not an easy feat.

            “And it smells nice,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu looks at Wonwoo sitting on his bed, cute and drenched in his sweater and calm as can be. Mingyu wonders what fortune could have ever allowed this to happen to him. He nods. “You mentioned something about the smell of lavender once.”

            Wonwoo draws in a quiet breath. “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.”

            Mingyu goes to the bed with the things they need, climbing up and sitting on his knees in front of Wonwoo. He smiles sheepishly and says, “It seems so forward, doesn’t it?”

            Wonwoo shakes his head. “Not at all.”

            No, of course Wonwoo doesn’t think so. Wonwoo isn’t awkward like he is. Mingyu nods and taps his fingers on his thighs. “So…how are we…?”

            Wonwoo does a little laugh that says _You’re asking me?_ “I don’t know. What do you usually do with Minhyuk?”

            Mingyu feels his face become instantly hot. “He—it’s usually—ah…” He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to think about that now—he’s kind of embarrassed of how he’s been before, at least in Wonwoo’s presence. He finally knows what it’s like to actually feel for someone, and it makes him wonder what all of that stuff before he met Wonwoo was even for anyway. Besides, he doesn’t want it to be like it was with Minhyuk with Wonwoo. This is going to be normal and uncomplicated and hopefully effortless and just…

            “Nice,” he says by accident.

            Wonwoo lips curve up a little. “Is it? He seems like he’d be fun to be around.”

            Mingyu blinks at him. “What? No—no I—I want _us_ to be nice. This. We’ll—I…” he sighs heavily. “If you’re comfortable with it, I would top.”

            Wonwoo smiles and nods. “Yeah. I was thinking that, too.”

            Mingyu sighs in relief this time. “Yeah. Okay. Um…how do you want to start?”

            “Well…” Wonwoo tilts his head. “I’d like to see you with your shirt off.”

            The blush deepens. As if Mingyu’s body wasn’t warm enough already. “Oh,” he says. He nods and pulls his shirt over his head, pushing it off the bed behind him inside out. He’s confident with his body, but he still finds himself waiting for what Wonwoo has to say.

            Wonwoo just looks at him for a second before looking back into his eyes, smiling, and he says, “I drew you right.”

            Mingyu feels the blush creeping down to his chest too and hopes it’s dark enough that Wonwoo can’t tell. He’s very warm under Wonwoo’s calm gaze, thinking about Wonwoo drawing him half naked or maybe totally naked in his notebook or another one that he keeps in his desk drawer in his dorm. He wants to say something about it, even just an oh or a thank you, but he can’t get the words out.

            Eventually, he just says, “Can I take off your sweater?”

            Wonwoo nods at him and moves his arms from his lap.

            Mingyu reaches tentatively forward (are his fingers shaking? That never happens) and finds the hem of Wonwoo’s sweater. He’s about to pull it up, but thinks of something else. “Wait.”

            “What?” Wonwoo asks.

            Mingyu brings his hands up and whispers, “Hold on.” He takes the frame of Wonwoo’s glasses in his fingertips and pulls them gently away from Wonwoo’s face. Wonwoo closes his eyes and lets Mingyu remove them, then blinks at him through his dark bangs. Maybe Wonwoo could see Mingyu’s blush before because Mingyu can see Wonwoo’s cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink.

            “I’ve…wanted to…” Mingyu trails off, holding Wonwoo’s glasses. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, so Mingyu leans to his bedside table and places the glasses there. When he leans back, he finds Wonwoo’s sweater again and tugs it up over his head when Wonwoo raises his arms.

            “Is it okay if it goes on the floor?” he asks.

            Wonwoo nods again.

            Mingyu drops the sweater on top of his shirt just in case, and then tells Wonwoo, “Lean back.”

            Wonwoo does, resting his head on Mingyu’s pillows. Mingyu wonders briefly if they’ll smell like Wonwoo later tonight. Or maybe Wonwoo won’t be gone.

            He blinks at the thought and looks at Wonwoo’s face again. “I’m going to take your jeans off.”

            “Okay.”

            So Mingyu removes Wonwoo’s pants, pulling them off his thin hips, then off his calves when Wonwoo bends his legs up. Wonwoo is wearing the simplest black underwear, fitted against his hips and between his legs. Mingyu swallows and says, “And…”

            Wonwoo nods again. “Okay.”

            Gently, Mingyu slides off Wonwoo’s underwear. He looks for a moment, but as he turns to finish the pile of Wonwoo’s clothes, he realizes that it doesn’t matter what it looks like. And Wonwoo is skinny, too— _really_ skinny—but Mingyu hardly cares about that either. He likes Wonwoo’s body—all of it. He figures he would like it no matter what Wonwoo looked like. Any way, it would be Wonwoo.

            When he turns back, Wonwoo is just gazing into his eyes like always.

            “Okay,” Mingyu says. He finds the bottle he brought over earlier and says, “So…do you know about prep?”

            Wonwoo nods. “Yeah.”

            Mingyu nods back. “Have you ever—you know.” He makes a weak motion between Wonwoo’s legs.

            Wonwoo looks away with his eyes—his first sign of any nerves—and says, “Once or twice.”

            “Good,” Mingyu tells him. “That’s good. It’s not totally foreign then.”

            Wonwoo says, “Just not too fast.”

            Mingyu nods seriously. “Of course. You let me know, okay?”

            And of course, Wonwoo just nods.

            But it turns out to be an easy process for him. Wonwoo accepts Mingyu’s first finger well—a slight expression of discomfort on his brows but nothing else—and Mingyu can’t imagine it’s more than a minute or two before Wonwoo tells him to go on with the second. Wonwoo isn’t one to be dramatic about things, and whatever pain he has he was probably expecting. Mingyu hopes that Wonwoo will be completely honest with him if it does get to be too much. Even Mingyu himself had to stop for a second the first of only the few times he bottomed for another guy. But Wonwoo is way more practical than he is, and probably a lot stronger too.

            “Okay,” Wonwoo says after a while.

            Mingyu pulls his hands away, looking from Wonwoo’s face to between his legs to try to judge things. Wonwoo is physically aroused—not as much as Mingyu, but he is—so… “All right?”

            Wonwoo nods. “I think so.”

            “Only if you’re sure.”

            “I’m sure, Mingyu.”

            So Mingyu finds the condom and puts it on, and he makes his way between Wonwoo’s legs.

            Wonwoo stares up at him from the bed. Mingyu looks at his face—his really amazingly handsome face with his sharp features and beautiful lips and calm expression. He wants badly to take lots of time to pay attention to Wonwoo’s body tonight, to worship it and get his hands everywhere he can and hear Wonwoo’s sounds and his breathing and to feel Wonwoo’s skin under his lips. But he knows that’s not what tonight is about. Maybe they can do that some day, and he hopes soon, if things go well tonight, but tonight is focused on Wonwoo having true sexual intercourse for the first time in his life. This is really, _really_ important, and while Mingyu intends it to be nice, it can’t be too much. Simplicity—that’s what he hopes for.

            But he does bring a hand forward to brush Wonwoo’s bangs out of his eyes, and he can see that behind Wonwoo’s calm exterior there may actually be some nerves, and something else—something intrigued and inquisitive, and maybe even eager.

            Mingyu leans down and kisses him. “Put your hands on me?”

            Wonwoo places his hands on Mingyu’s sides.

            “Okay,” Mingyu says.

            Wonwoo’s gaze moves down to look curiously between them.

            Mingyu begins to push in.

            Wonwoo’s lips part, and his body shifts on the bed before he sighs and looks at Mingyu again.

            “Does it hurt?” Mingyu whispers.

            Of all things, Wonwoo smiles. “Yeah. It does.”

            Mingyu tilts his head. “Then why are you smiling?”

            “Because it’s you.”

            Mingyu blushes warm again. Wonwoo doesn’t have to say that, but he keeps saying it anyway, and Wonwoo never says things he doesn’t mean. “Just tell me when you’re okay, Wonwoo. I don’t want you to be in any pain.”

            Wonwoo says, “Kiss it away.”

            Mingyu leans down and kisses him deeply, pushing in as slow as he can. He hears a soft sound from Wonwoo against his lips that could be pain but could also be something else. Wonwoo keeps kissing him, hands gentle on his sides, so Mingyu keeps going until he’s fully inside him.

            He breaks their kiss to look at Wonwoo’s face. “How are you?”

            Wonwoo nods. “I’m okay.”

            “Pain?”

            “A little.”

            Mingyu wishes there weren’t, but he can’t prevent it. But he can keep it from being worse. “I’ll go slowly.”

            Wonwoo smiles again. “Very. It’s beautiful that way.”

            Mingyu feels warmth in his chest. He whispers, “Promise you won’t take your hands off me.”

            Wonwoo holds him a little closer, sliding his hands to Mingyu’s back. “I promise. Promise you’ll hold me. Promise you’ll kiss me during it.”

            “I promise, Wonwoo. Everything.”

            Wonwoo’s eyebrows go up in the middle and he gasps lightly. “Promise that—that this will only change us by making us closer. Promise that this won’t be the last thing we—”

            “I promise.” Mingyu kisses him, hardly realizing he started to move his hips, pushing slowly in and out of Wonwoo. Wonwoo’s arms tighten on his back, and Wonwoo closes his eyes, letting Mingyu take over. So Mingyu kisses him, and Mingyu rolls his hips slow and deep, hoping he’s giving Wonwoo what he wants. Wonwoo isn’t making noise—he’s quiet, not surprisingly. But if his face is any indication when Mingyu takes a moment to stare—his mouth open a little and chin tilted up, eyes closed and squeezing just a little bit at the corners—and if Wonwoo’s hands holding tight to his back and his fingertips pressing into his skin mean anything, then Mingyu thinks that maybe he is feeling good. So he keeps going, kissing Wonwoo over and over, trying to make it beautiful, just like Wonwoo asked.

            He doesn’t know how much time goes by before Wonwoo says against his lips, “Mingyu.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Promise me.”

            Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s promising this time, but he’s starting to think that if it’s for Wonwoo, it doesn’t matter. “I promise.”

            Wonwoo wraps his legs around Mingyu’s waist and pushes his hips up, and Mingyu has to choke back a moan. “Promise me.”

            Mingyu swallows hard. “I do promise, Wonwoo. Whatever it is, I promise.”

            “Up. Up.”

            Mingyu wraps an arm under Wonwoo’s back and gets up, sitting back and letting his legs rest in front of him. Wonwoo keeps his legs wrapped around Mingyu’s hips, puts his arms around Mingyu’s neck, and settles in his lap. And now he rolls his hips, putting his feet on the bed and lifting his body.

            Mingyu does moan this time, right into Wonwoo’s mouth as Wonwoo kisses him again. Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut and holds tight to Wonwoo’s lower back, pulling him close, feeling him move as he rides him agonizingly slowly.

            Mingyu isn’t sure who’s going to finish first. He doesn’t know why he thought Wonwoo would come quickly—probably the stupid idea that virgins are just no good at sex. But Wonwoo definitely does not fit that at all. Mingyu, though he might not be proud of it, has had a lot of sex with a lot of different people, and it’s almost never like this—certainly not emotionally. Wonwoo is different; it would take Mingyu all day to say how many ways Wonwoo is different—smarter and more composed and more self-aware, as well as kinder, more considerate, more other-aware. And right now Mingyu thinks that he’s going to come way too soon and then Wonwoo will—

            Wonwoo moans. No—he doesn’t moan exactly, Mingyu thinks. Wonwoo makes more of a gorgeous breathy sound, like a long sigh with a little bit of music. And Wonwoo gets even closer to Mingyu, almost as if he’s hugging him, arms wrapping further around him and head falling to Mingyu’s shoulder. Wonwoo keeps moving his hips in whatever way made that happen for him, and he breathes right into Mingyu’s ear, “Will you touch me?”

            A shiver runs down Mingyu’s spine. He brings his hand between them and starts stroking Wonwoo, gentle but firm. Wonwoo reacts by tightening around him, and Mingyu moans into Wonwoo’s shoulder as he feels Wonwoo’s heavy warm breaths against his neck.

            And then Wonwoo is coming, spilling out onto Mingyu’s stomach and into his hand. Wonwoo makes a few quiet sounds—little _ah_ noises against Mingyu’s neck, hips stuttering during his first orgasm from another person. Mingyu bites down on his lip at the feeling, and he strokes Wonwoo’s back too, soothing him, trying for some reason to show that way that he cares. Wonwoo finishes, and he trembles in Mingyu’s arms, still hugging him tight.

            “Wonwoo,” Mingyu whispers.

            Mingyu stupidly expects Wonwoo to just stop, sitting there on him or pulling off him entirely. He should have known better. Wonwoo leans back to look at him again, gets on his knees, and grabs Mingyu’s face and kisses him hard. “Thank you,” he says, and moves a little faster than before in Mingyu’s lap.

            Mingyu’s heart basically lights on fire and his stomach coils tight, and he can’t do much else besides stare up at Wonwoo as Wonwoo holds his face and lifts his hips and tightens around him until Mingyu’s pleasure is coursing through his body in waves from between his legs and he’s spilling into the condom and moaning shakily against Wonwoo’s lips, and Wonwoo still rides him all the way through it, and Mingyu has _no idea_ how Wonwoo could end up being so perfect in every way, even this.

            Mingyu keeps his hold on Wonwoo’s lower back even after he’s done and has tied the condom to throw away. He doesn’t want Wonwoo to go anywhere. He wants to sit like this forever, Wonwoo light in his lap with his legs wrapping back around him, holding Wonwoo close to his body. It takes him a long time to find words to speak, and it’s still only, “Wonwoo.”

            “My first time,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu looks into his eyes. Right. This is a big moment for Wonwoo. Mingyu hopes with everything he has that it’s what Wonwoo wanted. “Was it okay?”

            Wonwoo holds his jaw gently in his hands. Mingyu thinks that when Wonwoo smiles down at him, it’s way too beautiful. “It was lovely,” Wonwoo says. “I couldn’t have asked for anything different or better. Thank you, Mingyu.” He pretends to push up his glasses. “I’m really glad it was you. I’m really glad it’s still you.”

            Mingyu can’t speak. He tilts his chin up and kisses Wonwoo, over and over and over.

            Wonwoo pulls away first, smiling and biting his lip. “Mingyu?”

            “I like you so much, Wonwoo.”

            Wonwoo laughs softly. “I like you too, Mingyu. Um…”

            Mingyu squeezes Wonwoo’s hips. “Hm?”

            The look on Wonwoo’s face is curious and innocent, and that plus the way his lips are red and the full lower one is stuck between his teeth makes Mingyu think that Wonwoo is truly both the cutest and sexiest person he’s ever seen. And it really doesn’t help when Wonwoo asks, “Was I okay?”

            Mingyu can’t help but smile and laugh a little bit. “Yes, Wonwoo. You were perfect.”

            Wonwoo shifts his arms on Mingyu’s shoulders. “Really? Objectively?”

            Mingyu nods seriously. “Absolutely.”

            Wonwoo hums. “Okay. I just…since you have experience.”

            Mingyu’s stomach twists again, but not in the good way. He wishes Wonwoo didn’t know about any of that. Right about now, he wishes he hadn’t done it. It’s not a big deal really—it’s okay to have lots of sexual experiences with different people—but now that Wonwoo is here, and since this is such a big thing for Wonwoo, having his first time, he does feel a little bit ashamed, especially since his own first time was meaningless and nowhere near what he and Wonwoo have between them now. He doesn’t know if he would go back and change his actions if he had the chance, but he feels sort of weird for having slept around so much. Wonwoo has a purity about him and Mingyu feels almost as if he’ll dirty it.

            “I don’t mind,” Wonwoo says, reading his thoughts again. “I’m not judging you. I just figure that you’ve had better experiences than what I just—”

            “No way,” Mingyu says firmly. “Never. Wonwoo…it sounds gross and stupid to say that’s the best I’ve ever had, but…” He shakes his head. “You really were perfect, Wonwoo. And I feel so much for you and I can tell that you felt it too and I think that’s what made it so amazing and _you_ were amazing. I couldn’t possibly compare you to anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair competition for them.” He smiles when Wonwoo smiles, and he says, “I couldn’t compare this, or anything else about you. You’re…”

            Wonwoo kisses him again.

            “How are you feeling?” Mingyu asks, rubbing a hand up and down Wonwoo’s side.

            Wonwoo takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “Good. It feels a little weird.”

            Mingyu nods. He remembers that from the first time he bottomed, too. “Anything hurt?”

            Wonwoo shakes his head. “Only at the beginning. It…um…” He blushes and looks down. “It felt really good.”

            Mingyu smiles and squeezes his hips again, his body starting to feel like he’s in that dreamspace again, unable to keep his eyes off of Wonwoo for anything close to a moment. “Yeah?”

            Wonwoo nods shyly. “Especially when…when we sat up and…”

            Mingyu laughs again and kisses him. “That was all you, Wonwoo. I’m so glad that you enjoyed it.”

            “I enjoy being with you,” Wonwoo says. “Not just the sex. I like this part, too.”

            For the first time, Mingyu actually thinks he likes this part even better. He grins, and he holds Wonwoo tight as he falls backward, pulling Wonwoo down. Wonwoo giggles and Mingyu kisses him more. “Me too, Wonwoo.”

            “Let’s stay here for a while,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu nods and kisses his lips, then his cheek. “I can’t miss even a second of you.”

            Wonwoo closes his eyes and says, so quietly Mingyu almost can’t hear, “Thank you.”


	30. XMH: Check

DAY 58: BRING IT

 

_11:30 am_

“If you think you’re hiding the screen, you aren’t,” Soonyoung says.

            Minghao looks up at him, twisted around in his seat in class and staring at him with an innocent smile. He glances back down at his phone screen where his texts with Junhui are open, then shuts it off and turns his phone face down on his desk. “I wasn’t trying to hide them.”

            “ _Them_ ,” Soonyoung says. “Look at you. You’re worse than those teenage movies. So the date didn’t go well. So what? First dates are always awkward.”

            “But it wasn’t a date,” Minghao says, leaning closer to Soonyoung. “That’s the thing. He couldn’t even call it a date.”

            Soonyoung thinks for a second, then looks like he stopped trying and waves his hand. “He’s dumb. It was a date.”

            Minghao sighs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Yeah, well…”

            He looks up at the doorway as Junhui walks into the classroom. Junhui smiles at him and, stupidly, he smiles back.

            Soonyoung releases a long squeal from the back of his throat, mouth closed, straight-faced, quiet enough that only Minghao can hear it.

            “I’ll steal your crutches,” Minghao says.

            Soonyoung laughs. “I’m getting this thing off on Friday anyway. Back to being just a lover. Speaking of—”

            “Look,” Minghao says. He tilts his chin at the door.

            Soonyoung turns to look, then turns back with big eyes. “Wah—are they holding hands?”

            Minghao looks at the new, handsome couple. They walked in like that yesterday, but Soonyoung was in the lab and didn’t show, so Minghao figures it’s a good one-time use distraction. It looks like Kim Mingyu is treating Jeon Wonwoo very nicely, walking with him, talking easily with him and smiling, holding his hand with their fingers laced together, completely confident in the relationship as if no one was watching them at all.

            Is it too much for Minghao to ask for that?

            “That’s so cute,” Soonyoung says, glancing at them again. “Hey.” He looks back at Minghao. “You should do that.”

            Minghao clicks his tongue. “If it were up to me, I w—” He cuts off, because he really just fell right into Soonyoung’s little trap.

            Soonyoung smiles devilishly at him. “Confess your heart now, Xu Minghao, before it’s too late.”

            “Jeonghan’s not in class again today,” Minghao says.

            Soonyoung says, “Don’t change the subject.”

            “And neither is Seungcheol.”

            Soonyoung sighs, deadpanning at Minghao. “Well, I can guess why they skipped.”

            Minghao hums, glad Soonyoung has dropped it for now. “Actually, I have two guesses—depending on which stage they’re in at the moment. We have a sub today—you’re lucky you came.”

            “This isn’t over,” Soonyoung says, narrowing his eyes at Minghao, and turns in his seat to grin at the substitute teacher.

 

Minghao starts putting his books away as the sub walks out, followed by the trickle of students. He waits less than intently for Soonyoung to turn and start talking about Junhui again, especially after he kept turning and looking between him and Minghao during class. Well, Minghao’s fault for almost saying something he isn’t even sure of yet.

            He zips up his backpack and straightens, not looking at Soonyoung as he says, “All right, just get on with—”

            “See you later, Hao.” Soonyoung stands and leaves the class faster than he’s ever done before.

            “Uh—okay? See you in a second?” Minghao looks strangely after him, still in his desk. That was weird. What does Soonyoung know that he doesn’t?

            He sits there for a moment, watching other students leave, trying to figure it out before realizing he should have just caught up with Soonyoung. Not that he doesn’t know Soonyoung’s hideout—it’s his too now. He stands up to follow his friend, holding his backpack up in one hand and zipping the outer pocket as he goes.

            At the doorway, there comes that same familiar, “Minghao,” and hands grab his shoulders and spin him around, pulling him to the side.

            Minghao blinks at Junhui, immediately thinking that this is not the way to go about things. He’s about to tell Junhui as much when Junhui says with big childlike eyes, “S-sorry,” then pushes him back against the wall and kisses him hard.

            Minghao drops his backpack, humming against Junhui’s mouth. Next to them, the classroom door swings closed. Minghao grabs hold of the sides of Junhui’s jacket, breaks the kiss, and manages to say, “What are you—” before Junhui kisses him again.

            Minghao thinks about protesting. He really does. He didn’t ask for this. Junhui takes him out and can’t even admit that it’s a date. Junhui apologizes but then doesn’t get much better than a few texts and smiles after that. Junhui lets his friends talk about him however they want, and it’s never good. Junhui fails to make Minghao want to give him another chance, every time. Now this?

            But, just because Minghao didn’t ask for it doesn’t mean…

            So he thinks about pulling away, but something about the way Junhui’s lips feel against his and something about the heat and the weight of the air between them makes it impossible. Minghao closes his eyes, and he doesn’t mean to, but he pulls at Junhui’s jacket, drawing him closer.

            Junhui’s right hand goes to Minghao’s hip, underneath his suede jacket, pressing his thumb in to the soft spot above the bone. Minghao gasps a little, breathing in Junhui’s air. Junhui’s lips curve in a smile and he pushes forward again.

            Junhui is fast but not too fast, verging on rough and a little sloppy, and totally unexpected. Minghao finds himself tilting his chin up and parting his lips, giving Junhui all access to his mouth, letting him taste him and bite him. He finds himself giving in completely, leaning his weight back against the wall and letting Junhui do what he wants, and actually kissing him back. And he doesn’t know why.

            Eventually, Junhui pulls away a few inches, breathing, and says, “Minghao.”

            Minghao blinks, looks at Junhui’s face there in front of him, and finally comes back to reality.

            That was not okay. He won’t lie to himself and say that something about it wasn’t great, wasn’t what he wanted. But the way it happened wasn’t okay. He doesn’t feel violated, but Junhui is just _wrong_. Junhui doesn’t get it. All Minghao wants is normalcy, and Junhui can’t seem to give it to him. That, and an apology that tells Minghao that Junhui is actually going to be different.

            He straightens to proper standing again, clears his throat, and says, “Why did you do that?”

            Junhui smiles, very shy in comparison to what he just did. “Because…well, we’ve been talking more. And you said you wanted me to show you more. So…”

            Minghao shakes his head. “ _Why_ , Junhui. Why did you want to?”

            He’s looking for one answer—just one tiny sentence. He wants to hear Junhui say it out loud, to finally admit it, both to Minghao and to himself.

            Junhui takes a step back and stands there in front of Minghao. He runs his fingers through his hair and puts the other hand in his pocket and shrugs. “Because…I like you.”

            Minghao could laugh. It seemed easy—just _say_ it. But now that Junhui finally did, everything still seems flat. This isn’t what Minghao wanted. Romance would be an overstatement, but this…

            Maybe everything would be easier if they just forgot about each other.

            He says, “You what?”

            Junhui’s eyes flick over to the window on the door to the classroom. “I said—”

            “Did you just check?”

            Junhui looks back at him, eyes widening again. “What?”

            Anger flares inside of Minghao’s body. He’s been political with Junhui for long enough. “Did you just check to see if your friends were walking by? Some of your stupid posse or _anyone_ who would laugh if they saw you alone in here with me? Did you just check to make sure your rep wouldn’t be ruined for something _you_ did?”

            Junhui shakes his head. “No, Minghao—I swear it’s not—”

            “Do you know what would happen to you if they saw you?” Minghao says, his voice becoming louder. “Not a whole fucking lot. They’d laugh but you’d explain it away and considering your track record you would probably tell them it was me who started it and you didn’t want it anyway and maybe that you only did it to make me feel better about myself since I’m just _that kid_ who’s quiet and has no friends and just all around sucks, right?”

            Junhui can’t speak. He apparently can’t look into Minghao’s eyes either, because he drops his gaze to the floor.

            “Right,” Minghao says, his voice lowering in volume but not in intensity. “But do you know what would happen to me? I’d start getting called a slut. People would be saying how all this time I really wasn’t just the quiet kid but some whore who tried to get with one of the most popular guys in school. And they would laugh when they heard about how you rejected me right away, and about how you were too good for someone like me and you probably told me to get help and to be _more like you_.” He stops and shakes his head. He didn’t know he was crying until he saw a drop fall from his chin to the floor.

            Junhui stares at him, his lips parted, his body weak.

            “I’m not you, Junhui,” Minghao says, his throat tight. He wipes a tear quickly from his cheek. “I’m not you, I’m not the transfer kid, I’m not anyone but myself. Why is that so hard for people to accept.”

            Junhui takes half a step, then retracts it. His hand comes up uselessly. “Minghao…”

            Minghao sniffs hard and picks up his backpack from the floor, messing with his hair, if only just to cover his face. Now he’ll have to go to the bathroom and finish whatever this crying is, and he’ll be late to meeting his best friend for lunch, and everything is ruined. He says, “Don’t follow me, Jun,” and he stares at the ground, unable to look back at Junhui, as he pushes through the door and down the empty hallways.


	31. WJH: Epiphany

_11:35 am_

“I’m not you, Junhui.”

            Junhui watches Minghao wipe away a tear from his cheek. He stands there in shock, taken by surprise but not surprised by Minghao’s words, disbelieving of the fact that he just made Xu Minghao, one of the calmest, most steady people he’s ever known, cry. He knows he should say something, but he can’t.

            How could he have expected anything different? Minghao is right—Junhui does have a full history of saying whatever it takes to make himself look better. Even if he doesn’t say it to Minghao’s face, he still agrees with half the shit his friends say—that Minghao is the weird kid, and that his jacket is ugly, and that he’s too skinny and that’s not attractive and he needs to eat a burger. All the lies. And Minghao knows he’s been doing it. He has every right to hate Junhui for what he’s done.

            So why did Minghao kiss him back?

            Minghao says, “I’m not you, I’m not the transfer kid, I’m not anyone but myself. Why is that so hard for people to accept.”

            Junhui knows that. Minghao is different from so many other people because he _isn’t_ different—not from himself. He isn’t anything but Minghao. Everyone else is three different selves with three different people, a fake at school or around certain groups. They’re the experienced slut who really is just trying to find the right one and to learn love. They’re the bitch who really just gets treated like shit by everyone. They’re the popular, cool, preppy lacrosse star who really just wants to make it through high school and be actually liked by at least one person. _This_ person—Minghao, who is only Minghao, always. All Junhui feels now is shame.

            He takes a step forward, wondering if he should comfort Minghao, then decides better of it. Minghao doesn’t need his consolation. Minghao doesn’t need him. Still, his hand comes up. “Minghao…”

            Minghao picks up his backpack, messing with his hair. Junhui notices the piece that always falls in his face during class. Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole Minghao would let him brush it back into place. Maybe Minghao would be able to trust him.

            Minghao says, “Don’t follow me, Jun,” and walks away.

            Junhui watches the door shut again, and he’s left alone in the classroom.

            He decides then—almost in a flash of epiphany—that that’s it. That’s the end of it. He’s done doing this to Minghao. He’s done listening to his friends insult the boy he likes, done pretending like he isn’t madly in something with Minghao, done letting himself be the way he’s been since the beginning of the semester with Minghao, and since long before then, when he got here and became someone he’s not.

            He’ll figure something out. Even if everything is ruined because _he_ ruined it, he’ll still make things right. He has to.


	32. CSC: Seeking The Old Friend

_3:35 pm_

Seungcheol didn’t know his dorm—the room or the building—and he never heard anything about a roommate either, so he knew finding him in a dormroom was a lost cause. Seungcheol figures he has a single dorm—it would fit what little he knows about Jeonghan’s old best friend, always quiet in the back of the class, present with his mind but hardly his body. He was absent from classes yesterday, of course, so Seungcheol couldn’t find him then either.

            The only other thing Seungcheol thought to try came after he remembered one time noticing him with a thermos in class—one that was being sold at the time in the little coffee stand on the first floor of the library. Seungcheol remembers seeing it while buying coffee one day before then—a smallish thing with a silver lid and a pearlescent white body—and thinking that it was one of Jeonghan’s favorite colors and he would like it a lot. When he went to get one a few days later, they told him the last one had been taken just that morning.

            Seungcheol wouldn’t be surprised to hear that it was him by coincidence.

            So he decided to search today, and he covered the whole first floor in ten minutes after school—coffee stand and all—and made his way to the second floor.

            And he finds him, in the corner at a single desk. The thermos is there in front of him. Seungcheol goes.

            “Hey.”

            Lee Jihoon looks up from his work, eyes searching Seungcheol but no readable expression on his face. He removes one earbud. “Yes?”

            Here is what Seungcheol knows about Jeonghan and Jihoon. They met in elementary, a long time ago, and became fast friends despite opposing personalities—Jihoon a hard worker and Jeonghan type B, Jihoon the introverted type with Jeonghan more of a people person, Jihoon a sort of _tsundere_ with Jeonghan an amicable social butterfly. Their middle school and parent high school weren’t more than a few miles away from each other, keeping their friendship stable and strong when Jeonghan became a freshman. But when Jeonghan transferred away into the Academy while Jihoon was starting high school, their friendship loosened. When Jeonghan met Seungcheol, Jihoon fell by the wayside. And when Jeonghan started to change, things remained the same and then got worse, even after Jihoon transferred to the Academy too.

            All of this Seungcheol knows in pieces from what Jeonghan has said over the years they’ve been together. Jeonghan has never fully told this story, but Seungcheol has understood it well enough. Seungcheol isn’t stupid—he just takes a second for the right answers to come to him sometimes. Like now—the knowledge that Jihoon could be a really big help to him. Jihoon knows more about the old Jeonghan than Seungcheol ever could. Maybe Jihoon can figure this out with him.

            Seungcheol says, “Uh—I know we haven’t talked much, but…”

            Jihoon lifts an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

            Seungcheol really should have thought this through more. He’s actually never spoken to Jihoon that he can remember—by the time Jihoon got here, Jeonghan wouldn’t have introduced them anyway. They know who each other are, have history and advanced biology together this semester, but that’s the extent of their relationship. The only thing connecting them is Jeonghan. But he’s also the most important thing.

            Seungcheol looks at Jihoon’s table and says, “I like your coffee cup.”

            Jihoon looks at it, then back up at Seungcheol. “Thanks.”

            Seungcheol says, “It’s his favorite color.”

            Jihoon blinks at him, and Seungcheol can tell then that he knows. Jihoon doesn’t say anything for a while, then turns back to his work. “I have to study.” He starts to put his earbud back in.

            “Jihoon, I know we’ve never talked,” Seungcheol says quickly. Jihoon lowers his pen to the desk and slumps a little bit, sighing. Seungcheol continues, “But I do know that you used to be really close with him and—”

            “It’s no use, Seungcheol. I’ve given up on it. Three years is enough to tell me it’s done.”

            Jeez. At first, it seems really harsh for Jihoon to say something like that. But then Seungcheol realizes that Jihoon isn’t spiteful or angry—Jihoon is just sad. Good grades and a single dorm can’t make up for the loss of a best friend.

            “Please,” Seungcheol says, softening his voice. “We’ve been stuck in this loop and I don’t know what to do. I need your help.”

            Without looking at him, Jihoon says, “My advice? Don’t let him drag you down. It ends up sucking worse than you might think.”

            “Hey, that…” Seungcheol starts, then stops. He’s not as ready to say something as he was with Jackson, because Jihoon knows Jeonghan just as well as he does. The problem is that maybe neither of them know enough. “Do you really feel that way?” he asks. “I thought you two were, like, the closest ever back then.”

            Jihoon does one short, unhappy laugh. “Yeah. Back then.”

            Seungcheol looks down. “I’m sorry. He’s changed with me, too. Our freshman year he was sweet and kind, but he’s different now. I don’t know what’s wrong and I can’t seem to get him to talk to me enough to tell me. We make up but then he goes right back. And when he apologizes he doesn’t really apologize, and he tries to fix everything with…” He sighs. “I can’t get him to open up. I can’t get him to tell me how he really feels.”

            As if Seungcheol didn’t just lay his heart out, Jihoon picks his pen back up and says, “Sounds like not my problem.”

            Seungcheol shakes his head. “You don’t miss him? Believe me, I get it if you do. If there’s anyone who knows how easy it is to miss the real Jeonghan, it’s me.”

            Jihoon sits up straight then, his pen clacking back onto the desk, and he turns his body to face Seungcheol. “Don’t you get it? I _tried_ , Seungcheol. I tried three years ago. I texted him and called him and offered to visit him here. He always just brushed it off, said yeah, maybe soon, or that he was busy. And when I got here, he didn’t even answer anymore.” He stops for a second and visibly swallows. “I tried, Seungcheol. I gave up.”

            Seungcheol stands there looking at him. God… He had no idea that this affected Jihoon so much. Jeonghan changing is affecting a lot more than just him. Whatever’s hurting Jeonghan, it’s hurting two more people, too.

            He tries to say something, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He shakes his head.

            Jihoon sighs. “Look. It’s not that I don’t want things to work out, it’s that I know they won’t. He’s become stubborn over the years and I know just as much about why as you do.”

            Seungcheol bows his head. “I know. I know that. I’m sorry. I was just…hoping we could work together and try…something.”

            Jihoon sniffs and pushes his papers around. “I tried all sorts of things.”

            “But you don’t miss him?” Seungcheol says again, without thinking.

            Jihoon sighs again and stares at his coffee thermos. “Of course I miss him.”

            Something inside Seungcheol lifts, just a little bit. “Then maybe if we both talk to him we can figure something out. Please.”

            Jihoon shakes his head at his desk. After a long silence of Seungcheol standing there waiting for an answer, Jihoon says, “He called me a few weeks ago. I didn’t pick up. Of course I didn’t. He hasn’t called me in ages. I didn’t even know what to think.”

            That thing inside Seungcheol lifts a little bit more. He takes a step closer to Jihoon. “That’s _something_. Really. Maybe he’s…maybe he’s trying to figure it out too. Jihoon, I know we’re not, like, friends, and I know you have no reason to help me, but we have a common cause, and that’s him. Do it for him.”

            Jihoon looks up at Seungcheol one more time.


	33. XMH: 50/50 Chance

_3:30 pm_

Soonyoung points at an open table, and Minghao nods, sitting on the bench next to him facing out. “There’s another lacrosse game on Thursday if you want to come with me,” Soonyoung says.

            Minghao prevents a weird face from happening. He has no desire to go to any more lacrosse games ever at this point. He’d go to a different period of history if he could, as long as he could bring Soonyoung with him. He crosses his ankles and says, “I’m all right, Soonyoung. You go without me. I know you always go.”

            Soonyoung pouts at him. “Ah, but it wont be as fun without you now. Is this about—”

            “Sorry, Soonyoung,” Minghao says. He smiles at him. “I’m just not feeling it this week.”

            Soonyoung looks at him for a moment before saying, “Maybe you should just talk to him.”

            Of course. Minghao sighs. He looks off at one of the classroom buildings.

            “He kissed you today, didn’t he,” Soonyoung says.

            Minghao blinks and looks at him. “How did you know?”

            Soonyoung draws in a breath and leans back against the table. “Because Wen Junhui never stays behind after class. But you do. When you were putting away your books, I saw him waiting for you to pack up and for everyone else to go and then I didn’t stick around after that because I knew he wouldn’t do it if anyone was there.”

            For such a dork who does so many stupid things, Soonyoung is pretty damn smart. Minghao laughs once. “Yeah, because it would ruin his reputation to be seen kissing someone like me.”

            Soonyoung shrugs. “Maybe. I’m sure that’s part of it. And that’s not an insult to you from me—I’m just saying you’re probably right that he thinks that. But I think he also wanted to be alone with you. He’s obviously making at least a little bit of an effort. He invited you to the game and gave you his jacket when you were cold and tried for privacy when he kissed you for the first time even though it does have that connotation to it. I—” He stops and looks at Minghao again. “Wait, was that your first?”

            A little confused at how much Soonyoung is suddenly saying, Minghao just shakes his head.

            Soonyoung nods. “Course not. You’re Xu Minghao. Good. I haven’t, in case you wanted to know.” Minghao smiles at the moment of the normal Soonyoung that broke through his speech. But alter ego Soonyoung comes back with, “Anyway. I just think you should give him another chance. He’s kind of always done what he does? Even in our year one and two when you weren’t here he was like this. Not the kissing people randomly but—you know what I mean. I know you don’t want to hear this but you can’t expect him to change in an instant. I think he’s trying, though.”

            “Don’t say for me,” Minghao says.

            Soonyoung nods. “Okay. I won’t say it.”

            Minghao bites the inside of his lip. Why does Soonyoung have to be so out of character and probably right? On that note, why does Junhui have to be so problematic? “I don’t know, Soonyoung. I don’t really want to get hurt by this. I just want to go to class and make good grades and sleep well.”

            “I know. I get it,” Soonyoung says, looking at him. “But there’s more to life than school. You don’t even have any hobbies. And I’m, like, your only friend, which I think is super cool and I’m honored but I also think it’s kinda sad, dude. He’s trying. Let him try.”

            Minghao shifts his legs, and he sighs for the millionth time since this whole thing started. It’s not that he doesn’t want it to go well—if Junhui were perfect, Minghao would gladly allow a second date, and many more after that. But he can’t expect Junhui to be perfect, especially since nobody is ever going to be perfect. He has to remind himself that Junhui is very nervous about him, and at least is probably nice on the inside, and he’s really quite handsome, and he obviously likes Minghao a lot. Minghao only hopes that Junhui is also worth it.

            “We’ll see,” he says. “I might talk to him. _Might_.”

            Soonyoung just nods like that’s the end. “Good.” There’s a pause while he reaches down to his backpack and pulls out a bag of chips, opening it with a cheap aluminum squeak. He turns and straddles the bench to face Minghao and says, “So how was it?”

            Minghao lifts an eyebrow at him while he shoves chips into his mouth.

            Soonyoung holds the bag out to him. “Want some?” Minghao shakes his head. “Yah. You’re skinny. How was it?”

            Minghao looks forward. Of course he knows what Soonyoung means, but he says, “How was what?”

            Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “The kiss.”

            Minghao shrugs to try and distract himself from the way his heart beats faster thinking about Junhui pushing him up against the wall, the cute _S-sorry_ he stammered out as if being so forward wasn’t typical for him, Junhui kissing him heavy and rough and the way his body went slack from the feeling of Junhui’s hand and—

            “Don’t kiss and tell, right?” he says quickly.

            “Everyone tells.” Soonyoung dumps the rest of his chips in his palm and crumples the bag. “What was it like? Was it just one quick kiss or was it like a longer softer kiss or just like a full-on dirty make out?”

            Minghao does his best not to blush—he can’t recall having blushed because of Junhui yet, and he isn’t about to start now—and to keep a straight face. He shrugs again. “Just a kiss, I guess.”

            “Whoa. Did he really?” Soonyoung looks at Minghao with big, curious eyes, his lips in their O.

            Minghao frowns at him. “What?”

            “Did he really use tongue on the first one?”

            Now Minghao can’t stop the blush from creeping up his neck. “Soonyoung.”

            “He did!” Soonyoung dusts his hands off over the grass. “Well shit. Did he bite you too? He looks like a biter. I don’t see any hickies so at least he stayed up. How did he taste?”

            “Soonyoung, are you kidding—”

            “Spicy, right?” He makes a _tsss_ and shakes his head. “I bet he would taste pretty—”

            “Sweet,” Minghao says, then wants to kick himself.

            Soonyoung slaps his own knee. “Hao! What the hell!”

            Minghao just lowers his head, regretting it already. Regretting staying in that classroom too long. Regretting going to that lacrosse game, and that football game, and ever having third period world history at all.

            Soonyoung shoves him. “That’s cute!”

            Minghao groans, shoving a hand in his hair and holding tight in frustration. “It wasn’t cute. It was sudden and fast and unexpected and he—he kisses _really_ well and I just _melted_ , Soonyoung, and I hate myself for it.”

            Soonyoung gasps, clutching at his heart. “Oh my god. No, don’t hate yourself, that’s amazing. You _should_ feel like that. Wah, it’s like a movie!”

            Minghao thinks _Those bad teenage movies you were mentioning earlier?_ He shakes his head, disappointed at his own inability to dislike everything about Junhui. “I don’t know what to do.”

            “You so like him. Oh man. This is great.” Soonyoung wiggles on the bench. “You two are gonna fall in love and you’ll meet his parents and you’ll go on beautiful trips and spend Christmases together and adopt kids or dogs and—”

            “Soonyoung, you are building a future that is highly unlikely to happen,” Minghao says, halting that train of thought before it gets even more out of hand.

            Soonyoung makes a face at him like he knows better. “I give it a fifty-fifty chance. Based on you talking to him and fixing this or not.”

            Minghao scoffs. “Oh, _I’m_ fixing it? He’s the one who kissed me out of nowhere and then checked himself like it was some mistake and made me…” He trails off, looking at the ground, and sighs. “I never cry, Soonyoung. Especially not in front of people.”

            Soonyoung sits up straighter, looking surprised and a little angry. Minghao feels a moment of pride that Soonyoung cares. “Wait. He made you cry?” Soonyoung looks at the bench. “That’s why you were so late at lunch. And here I thought…” He frowns deeply. “What an ass.”

            Minghao hums. “I made myself cry. I might have overreacted a little bit—”

            “No. Whatever you said you had a good reason. What did he say when you cried?”

            Minghao lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head. “He didn’t. He was as shocked about me calling him out as I was about him kissing me. Honestly, Soonyoung, it’s just one big fucking mess.”

            Soonyoung hums too, lips pouted. “Well…now I’m more hesitant to tell you to talk to him if he made you feel bad.”

            “I’m not sure he did it on purpose,” Minghao says, looking at the classroom building again, squinting in the sunlight. “Force of habit, I think.”

            “Probably.”

            “And I mean…” He shrugs. “He hasn’t ever actually done anything _to_ me. Or at me. It’s always been his friend group, the whispers in the hallways and the staring and the ugly looks. He’s never said anything to my face.”

            Soonyoung pulls his legs up onto the bench to sit crisscross, his cast thumping on the concrete. “That’s not an excuse.”

            “I know, definitely not. But maybe…” Minghao accidentally looks over into Soonyoung’s eyes.

            “Maybe it means something?” Soonyoung offers.

            Minghao shrugs again and nods.

            Soonyoung smiles halfway and says, “And maybe the fact that you’re defending him that way means I got in your head.”

            Minghao raises one eyebrow. “What—”

            “You’re gonna talk to him.” Soonyoung grins widely. “I already see it on your face. That look you get when you’ve made up your mind about something even if you don’t like the choice you made.”

            Minghao laughs a little and looks away. “You know me too well already.”

            Soonyoung nods. “And I’m glad I do. But listen—if he makes you cry again I’ll…I don’t know. I can’t kick his ass cause he’s the athlete here and I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows some sort of Kung Fu.” Minghao snorts and Soonyoung snaps his fingers. “I’ve got it. I’ll blow him up for you. Just give me the word and he’ll spontaneously combust in the middle of history class.”

            Minghao smiles and says, “The last time you tried that, you broke your ankle.”

            Soonyoung looks at him a lot more seriously than he should and says, “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got another one. If that’s what it takes.”

            Minghao laughs again, a little more. If there’s one thing he has to be happy for, it’s that he met Soonyoung.

            “Sound good?” Soonyoung says, his smile bright with his cheeks in the sun.

            Minghao nods. “Sounds great.”


	34. YJH: Meet Me

_3:35 pm_

Jeonghan’s plan of skipping the classes he shares with Seungcheol went well. As well as it could, anyway. Successful, but not exactly rewarding. He didn’t want to miss the lecture material or get missed attendance points, but having been on the verge of tears all day (for three days, if he’s being honest with himself), it’s still better than breaking down in the middle of class, and for everyone including Seungcheol to see.

            Talking to Wonwoo has helped—the few times he’s been able to. Wonwoo has told him the kindest of words and what should be good advice were Jeonghan able to take it, has hugged him when he fell into Wonwoo’s arms (he even let Jeonghan rest against him on their couch for ten minutes yesterday morning, tears falling steadily from his closed eyes). But in the end, he felt too pathetic to show his face to Wonwoo anymore, much less complain to him and cry in front of him over and over. Besides, Wonwoo is happy, went into town on the weekend instead of staying here. Jeonghan doesn’t want his bad feelings to seep into Wonwoo and ruin him too. Better if he just stays alone for as long as he can.

            After sixth period, he hugs his books close to his chest and starts out for the dorm halls, hoping as well as expecting that Wonwoo isn’t there, off doing something fun or studying with his friends instead. That’ll make it easier for him to slip into his room and lock the door and bury himself in work or sheets for the rest of the day until he wakes up tomorrow to start over.

            As he’s about to turn the sidewalk toward the dorms, his phone goes off in his pocket. He almost ignores the text tone, figuring it couldn’t be anything that important, but then pulls it out anyway, shifting his books to one elbow, just in case it’s the school cancelling classes for tomorrow or maybe the rest of his life.

            It isn’t. Jeonghan turns his phone in the light, easing the glare on his screen, just to make sure he read Seungcheol’s name right. They haven’t talked since Jeonghan went to his dormroom on Saturday. Jeonghan figured it was just over. Maybe this is Seungcheol texting him to confirm that.

            He slides it open.

            _SC:_ _hi, Hannie. meet me in the gym?_

            Jeonghan stares at it for a long time. Other students pass him, muttering things, as he stands in the middle of the sidewalk, but he doesn’t notice.

            The gym should be empty this time of day, and Seungcheol would know that better than anyone. Seungcheol can’t possibly be asking for what Jeonghan used to ask for. Jeonghan blinks at the screen, and the thought strikes him that maybe Seungcheol wants to break up with him in person. Seungcheol always was mature in that way. Seungcheol always was pretty much perfect. Jeonghan never told him as much. Stupid.

            _SC: I know you’re tired, Hannie. please meet me_

Mechanically, Jeonghan types back: _ok._

            He puts his phone away and turns around to go back toward the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting a few days, guys! Got that chapter all done and ready to go.


	35. WJH: The Prep's Apology - Take Two

_4:15 pm_

The dorm buildings make three sides of a square, facing in on almost a small park—just a few benches and some trees. Since he didn’t have any other options—unaware of Minghao’s last class of the day or where he would go after school—Junhui figured his best option was to wait there, where he was most likely to see Minghao coming to his building. Sure, he knows Minghao’s dorm, but he thought it might be better if he wasn’t standing right outside it when Minghao came up. So he picked a bench facing the open side and sat, bouncing his leg and chewing his nails.

            He has to apologize. He knows now that he doesn’t need to apologize for screwing up a date, or for kissing Minghao unexpectedly. Well, he does need to apologize for that, but not _just_ that. He needs to apologize for _everything_.

            And so he’s sitting here, waiting. He’s thought multiple times that he’ll wait until night if he has to, but luckily he doesn’t.

            Minghao walks up alone, looking at his phone. Junhui stands, thankful that Minghao isn’t with his friend right now, though he figures he’d like Soonyoung if he got to know him better. It’s just easier if they’re alone for this.

            Minghao looks up before Junhui has the chance to say anything. He stops, looks at Junhui, then begins to turn around.

            Junhui’s stomach twists at the fact that Minghao is disregarding him—that he _made_ Minghao have to do that. But he takes a few steps forward and says, “Minghao, please don’t run from me.”

            Minghao stops again, pausing. His hand with his phone lowers to his side and he turns around to look Junhui in the face. “Jun, I don’t know if this is good for me.”

            That much is clear to Junhui at this point. What he needs to do is change it. He sighs, pushes down his nerves and his fear, and says, “I know I suck. I know. But I’m trying my best.”

            Minghao sighs and looks to the side like that was the last thing he wanted to hear. He shakes his head, not answering.

            Junhui swallows hard, looking at Minghao’s perfect profile. He isn’t sure what to say—didn’t plan anything out—but he has to say something. “Minghao, when I said I like you, I meant it.”

            Minghao’s lips—his honestly perfect lips—curve up on the side facing Junhui, and he laughs one time. “I just find it hard to believe.”

            Junhui takes another step towards him, only a few meters away now. “I know. I—”

            “You don’t get it, Jun.”

            Junhui stops. Minghao has turned to look him dead on. Minghao has always been intimidating, but never more than right now.

            But the thing is, Junhui _does_ get it. _Finally_ , he understands what the real problem is. At its basest, it’s him.

            “No, I do,” he says. “I didn’t before but I do now. Minghao, everything you said about me today was true. I’ve been a total idiot and you’re right—I would have said those things to make myself look better. _Before_ , I would have said them. I know that’s the problem. I know. I’ve been an ass and I’ve let my friends be asses and I never stood up for you because I was immature and weak.” He breathes, looking at Minghao’s unperturbed expression. “Not now, Minghao. I like you a lot and I think I have for a while? Since I first saw you. I’m not really…” He trails off and shakes his head. “Look. I know you have no reason to say yes to me.”

            “You’re right. I don’t.”

            Junhui sighs and nods. “Unless there’s a chance that you might like me back.”

            He stops, looking into Minghao’s eyes, trying to gauge him from this far away and thinking how futile that is when he can’t even gauge Minghao from up close. He figures there are a few options for this. One, the one he honestly expects, is that Minghao will get mad at him for even insinuating something like that. Two, that Minghao will laugh in his face or just remain entirely calm and say how he could never like someone like Junhui. Or three…yes. That he does like him, even just a little. Junhui expects the first answer, but since kissing Minghao earlier today, which had to be physically one of the best experiences he’s had in his life, he’s hoped for the third. He’s probably foolish to do so, but he has.

            Minghao just looks at him, his expression unchanging, and says, “How can you expect me to after what you’ve done?”

            Junhui bites his lip. Of course. Minghao is too smart and too good. Why would he lower himself to Junhui’s level? But also—why would Minghao kiss him back?

            “I know. I’m really sorry,” Junhui says. “But…you…”

            “I what?”

            Junhui says quite unconfidently, “You kissed me back.”

            Minghao finally lowers his gaze. He shifts on his feet and says, “Yeah. I did.”

            Junhui takes just a few steps closer, and Minghao eyes him while he does it. He stops again, this time close enough that if they both reached out their arms, they could hold hands. He asks, trying to sound purely curious, “Why?”

            Minghao sighs and looks sideways again. “Because I _want_ to like you, Junhui. I do. I think you’re very capable of being kind and even sweet and I have seen some of that from you. But the other stuff just sort of blocks it out, you know? I can’t just forget the way I’ve been treated by not just you but pretty much everyone, and the fact that your ingroup perpetuates that doesn’t exactly make me want to go out with you or identify myself with you at all. Especially since you can’t even say out loud or admit to yourself that you want to date me. How do you think that makes me feel?”

            Junhui squeezes up inside listening to all of those true things Minghao is saying. He brings a palm to his forehead. “Fuck. Minghao, I’m so sorry. I’ve been a shitty person to you and…I just want to make it up to you and make you feel better.” His eyes go wide and he looks pleadingly at Minghao. “No—that’s not—I mean…I want…” He knocks the heel of his hand against his head, making a frustrated grunt. “ _Ugh_. I don’t know what to say to you. You always make me speechless and now it’s even worse and…” He stops. Now his throat is tightening up and he _never_ cries, especially not in front of people. Maybe that’s exactly how Minghao felt earlier today. He gives up, letting his shoulders fall and his gaze come to likely their final rest on Minghao’s pretty eyes, and says, “I’m just sorry.”

            After a long time of watching him, probably judging him the most he ever has, and probably thinking he’s completely pathetic, Minghao says, “Fine.”

            Junhui can’t help a startled blink. “Wh-what?”

            Minghao nods once. “I’ll go on a date with you. A _real_ date this time. And if anyone asks, you’ll tell them it’s a date, and you’ll introduce me, and you’re not going to hide me from anyone. I don’t deserve to be hidden.”

            No—Minghao deserves to be sculpted in marble and then put on display in a museum for everyone to be awed by. Junhui nods really fast, hardly believing what he’s hearing.

            Minghao puts a hand on his backpack strap and says, “And if I see any of the shit you’ve done before again, it’s over. I don’t even know if anything has started yet but I won’t take that anymore.”

            Junhui just keeps nodding. “Of course. I’m really sorry. I know that doesn’t mean anything but I am.”

            Minghao doesn’t say anything to that.

            Junhui stammers out, “Wh—uh—where do you want to go? We’ll do whatever you want. Anything.”

            Minghao glances sideways just behind Junhui and then lifts an eyebrow, tilting his chin out. “Since I’m so new here, why don’t you ask him?”

            Junhui looks, sees another student from their class, then looks back at Minghao. Minghao just watches him in that same calm manner, his eyes conveying his message perfectly: _Prove it._

            Junhui is starting to learn that more than any exam in school, more than any team in lacrosse, Minghao is the most difficult thing he has ever had to face. But Junhui has always liked a challenge.

            He tries to keep himself from smiling, failing at the very corners of his lips, and turns and calls out, “Hey, Seokmin! Know any good spots for a date around here?”


	36. YJH: You Shouldn't

_3:45 pm_

The hallway to the gym is empty, too. Jeonghan’s shoes clock on the floor as he goes to the double doors.

            When he pushes one open, he sees Seungcheol, sitting on the metal bleachers against the wall—the exact picture he had in his mind in expectation. Seungcheol is even sitting the same way he imagined. Jeonghan knows his boyfriend well.

            What he didn’t expect was to also see _him_. Jihoon. Sitting there next to Seungcheol and looking right at him when he opens the door.

            How long has it been? Jihoon used to be his best friend. Like, best friend _ever_. They did everything together from a really young age—school or hanging out or nothing or anything. Around seventh grade, Jeonghan even thought he was in love with Jihoon before he realized he just loved him more than anyone, and loved the love that Jihoon gave back to him. Now it’s been three years since they’ve really spoken, and Jeonghan is afraid that none of their past matters anymore. Because…he ruined it. Somehow, he ruined everything. He’s aware it’s his fault, and he’s aware that it’s the same thing that’s causing Seungcheol to pull away from him too, but none of it makes sense to him and it’s not like he can please anyone anyway. Everyone hates him. He’s the bitch—he knows it—and people treat him as such. Jihoon has probably felt that way even before he ever came here. Now Seungcheol must feel that way too.

            The only two people who have ever been truly, unconditionally kind and loving to him are now here in front of him, likely not for any good thing. Maybe they’ve joined together to finally tell Jeonghan once and for all to his face how awful he is.

            Why did it have to happen his way? Jeonghan has wanted to talk to Jihoon for a long time. He’s been desperate, really, to have his best friend back. That’s why he called him before. With how he’s been feeling building up even more these days, and with his problems with Seungcheol coming to a point, he’s been even less able to stand walking into class every day and seeing Jihoon in the back at his desk alone. All Jeonghan has known to do was just avoid him entirely, including eye contact. Jihoon must hate him too, then—just as much as Seungcheol does. But still, Jeonghan has always wanted to find what they had before again.

            But this—walking in and suddenly being forced to face Jihoon after all this time… He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

            He freezes in the doorway, things seeming to come into focus around him, his blood immediately rushing to his center, making his hands feel cold.

            Seungcheol stands and takes a few steps off the bleachers towards him. “Jeonghan.”

            “Jihoon?” Jeonghan says, almost just a breath.

            Jihoon turns on the bleachers to face him straight on. “Hi, Jeonghan.”

            Seungcheol says, “Jeonghan, we—”

            “What are you doing here?” Jeonghan doesn’t move. He stands there staring, looking into Jihoon’s face. What was once always happy, dimpled and cute, is now flat, almost as if Jihoon has no faith anymore at all because Jeonghan drained it out of him when he left.

            “Seungcheol asked me to come,” Jihoon says.

            Jeonghan draws in a breath. “Why?”

            “Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says again. His voice is gentle and caring as usual. He could be telling Jeonghan that the world was ending and still sound like that. Jeonghan looks at him finally. “I asked Jihoon to meet you here with me. We want to talk to you. Come inside.”

            Jeonghan glances at the door he’s still holding open with one arm, then takes a step into the gym. The door swings shut with a heavy click behind him, and the gym is quiet. “What is it?” he asks. But he knows what it is.

            Seungcheol starts to walk toward him.

            “Stop,” he says, and his voice amplifies around the room, making him flinch. Seungcheol stops, bringing his hands up in front of him, playing with his fingers like he does when he’s nervous or sorry. Jeonghan blinks at them, at Seungcheol’s worried eyebrows. He doesn’t know why he said that or why, in front of his boyfriend and ex best friend—or maybe ex both of those now—all of his defenses are suddenly up. “Don’t,” he whispers.

            Seungcheol visibly swallows. Behind him, Jihoon just watches Jeonghan carefully, expressionless. “We just want to talk,” Seungcheol says again. “About you, Hannie. About us. All of us.”

            Jeonghan hugs his books closer to his chest. “I don’t…”

            “You called me,” Jihoon says.

            Jeonghan’s eyes widen and he looks at him, shaking his head slightly. “I—I didn’t—”

            “It’s okay, Hannie,” Seungcheol says. He takes another step forward and Jeonghan twitches.

            “Why are you calling me that?” he says. “Aren’t you breaking up with me?”

            Seungcheol’s face darkens with concern. “Jeonghan, no. What gave you—no, of course not. I love you.”

            Jeonghan’s throat begins to close.

            “We want to try to figure out what’s going on,” Jihoon says.

            Jeonghan puts his feet together. “What do you mean?”

            “You, Hannie,” Seungcheol says. “We want to find out why…things are the way they are. Between you and me and between you and Jihoon. Something’s been not right for a while now and we want to change it. We want to help you.”

            For some reason—maybe it’s just because he’s emotional lately, maybe because Seungcheol is talking like that when he should be yelling but he never ever does, maybe because of Jihoon being here, maybe because he feels backed against a wall all of a sudden—Jeonghan gets angry. At this point, since he can’t just sit down and cry, it’s the only other thing he knows. At least Seungcheol is used to it.

            He points a finger at himself and says, “Me?”

            Seungcheol recognizes Jeonghan’s tone. He’s heard it so many times before. He bites down on his lip before saying, “It’s just that you’ve changed, Hannie. I didn’t know how to talk to you about it before so—”

            “So you brought _him_ into it?” He thrusts a hand at Jihoon. Jihoon just blinks.

            Seungcheol opens his mouth for a second, looking back at Jihoon, then at Jeonghan again. “We thought maybe together—”

            “What? You could fix me? By bringing me here without any warning and embarrassing me and cornering me like this and—and not giving me a chance to—just—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Why can’t he _think_ anymore? Why does any of this have to happen to him? Why can’t things just go back to the way they were before he sank into such a hopeless depression?

            He shakes his head as if that could ever help him clear it. “This isn’t fair. I can’t—I can’t do this right now.”

            “Then when, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol asks, so quietly. “Please let us help you. Please tell us what’s wrong. It’s the only way.”

            Jeonghan starts to back away.

            Seungcheol goes to him faster than he can turn around. He grabs one of Jeonghan’s hands and they stop, facing each other.

            Jeonghan looks into Seungcheol’s eyes, his big soft eyes that were always so loving and so kind and so gentle. They’re still that way now. It’s just that Jeonghan can’t take the pity that’s in them too.

            He thinks _You shouldn’t love me,_ but doesn’t say it. He tries to say _Let me go_ , but nothing comes out.

            Seungcheol squeezes his hand once. “I love you, Jeonghan. Be okay. I won’t know what to do if… Just be okay. If I can’t help you now, tell me when you’re ready. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Forever.”

            Jeonghan stares at him, looks at Jihoon sitting there, stares at Seungcheol.

            “Both of us will,” Jihoon says.

            Jeonghan’s vision blurs at the edges. He takes another step backwards. Seungcheol lets go of his hand, and he runs.


	37. KMG: Bygones

_4:00 pm_

“I think they’re better than yesterday,” Wonwoo says.

            Mingyu looks at another student who makes no effort not to stare at their hands laced together. “Doesn’t seem like it,” Mingyu says.

            Wonwoo shrugs. “Maybe it is a little surprising. Seeing you with the likes of me.”

            Mingyu turns and makes big eyes at him. “Don’t say nonsense like that.” He brings their hands up and kisses Wonwoo’s, coveting it close to his chest after.

            Wonwoo smiles. “Kidding. Though you are the model here.”

            Mingyu snorts. “Yeah, for like, flavored water or school uniforms.”

            Wonwoo laughs and shakes his head. “Give yourself some credit. GQ would be glad to have their next youngest cover boy.”

            Mingyu’s cheeks pink, and he gazes at Wonwoo, smiling softly. “Only if you can—”

            “Should I go?” Wonwoo says, stopping on the grass leading up to the dorms where they were about to go study or maybe “study” together.

            Mingyu stops too, giving him a questioning look. “Huh?”

            He looks where Wonwoo’s looking and sees Minhyuk coming toward them, faux leather pants practically reflective as he marches across the grass, a gold circle on his choker shining in the light.

            Mingyu’s stomach threatens to evacuate his body. He’s been stuck in a fantasy world with Wonwoo since Friday and now he’s just been ejected back into reality. How long has he been basically ignoring his friends? His old friends, anyway. Since they looked at Wonwoo that way when Mingyu confessed that he liked him, Mingyu has been intent on dropping them out of his life forever. But he definitely left a lot of loose ends, and Minhyuk hanging out to dry.

            “Oh god,” Mingyu says.

            Wonwoo lets go of his hand first.

            “ _Kim Mingyu_ ,” Minhyuk seethes, walking up to them. He jabs Mingyu in the chest with a pointer finger. “Radio silent for weeks, and now this?” He waves a hand in Wonwoo’s direction.

            Mingyu becomes instantly defensive. “Minhyuk, I’m sorry, but don’t talk about him like that.”

            “Hi, I’m Wonwoo,” Wonwoo says, and bows respectfully.

            Minhyuk gives him half a look and glares back at Mingyu. “Him. Honestly.”

            Mingyu frowns. “Yes him. Don’t be like that.”

            Minhyuk shifts his weight onto one hip. “What was I to you, Mingyu? A piece?”

            Mingyu looks between Minhyuk and Wonwoo, his heart sinking. This is definitely his fault—for being the way he was, for paying attention to nothing but Wonwoo for a long time, and for probably leading Minhyuk on. The look on Minhyuk’s face is more than just anger—it’s hurt and embarrassment. All at once, Mingyu can imagine that people have been saying things—how Minhyuk couldn’t even get the slut of the school to be his boyfriend, how Mingyu used him for sex and then just threw him away when he found someone new. None of it was ever like that. Mingyu liked Minhyuk, just not in a romantic way. They were good friends with better benefits. But maybe Minhyuk thought something else. It would explain a hell of a lot that Mingyu should have realized a lot sooner.

            He sighs heavily and holds his hands in front of himself, chagrined and ashamed. “I’m sorry, Minhyuk.”

            Minhyuk scoffs. “Sorry should be the least of it, Mingyu.”

            Mingyu looks down. “I know. I care about you, Minhyuk, it’s just…we weren’t…” He sighs again. “I should have been clear with you. About where we were.”

            Minhyuk crosses his arms. He looks at Mingyu for a while, allowing Mingyu time to feel bad, then nods. “Yeah. You should have. I really liked you, you know? I can be annoying and possessive, but it’s because I liked you. I put up with you sleeping around with other guys because I knew you were happy doing that and I believed you when you said it was good to experience. Stupid of me to hope that you’d go exclusive with me, huh? I guess I wasn’t what you were looking for.”

            Mingyu shakes his head again, hating himself, unable to look at either of the boys with him. “I’m sorry.”

            Minhyuk scoffs again and shakes his head. He turns to Wonwoo and says, “Be careful. Things might not be what you think a while from now.”

            Wonwoo nods, and Minhyuk walks past them. Wonwoo turns to Mingyu.

            Mingyu keeps his head hanging, then looks pathetically up at Wonwoo with his eyes. “I’m…”

            “Don’t be,” Wonwoo says. “I understand.”

            Mingyu bites down on his lip. Is Wonwoo really forgiving him again, even after that? Even after…what Minhyuk just said to Wonwoo? And was Minhyuk _right_? Mingyu says, “I’m so sorry about this.”

            Wonwoo smiles gently and shakes his head. “It’s okay, Mingyu. Bygones.” He waves a hand over his shoulder.

            Mingyu sighs and nods. “I feel awful. I didn’t know he thought… I should have laid out boundaries.”

            Wonwoo nods too. “You should have. Now you know, right?”

            Mingyu hums in answer. Then he asks, “What are our boundaries?”

            Wonwoo smiles. “Not a whole lot, I think. Physically, we share personal space. Bodily, well…none.” Mingyu smiles a little too. “And emotionally, we’ll talk, and we’ll share what we’re feeling, and we’ll recognize that we aren’t the same on anything and both have different ways of thinking and feeling and problem solving and all of that. I’m available if you are.”

            Yeah, Mingyu knows Wonwoo is emotionally available. Wonwoo is emotionally flawless—Mingyu is the one who can stand to work on it a bit. He will for Wonwoo. He nods. “All of the above.”

            Wonwoo puts his hand out. “We’re boyfriends. And luckily our boundaries mainly encircle us both. Yeah?”

            Mingyu smiles more, really thankful for someone like Wonwoo in his life, and takes Wonwoo’s hand. “Yeah. Are we still going to study?”

            Wonwoo laughs a little and starts them walking again. “Yes. And if you do well, maybe we can do something else too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the mix up, guys. Archive decided to reorder my chapters for me when I posted 36/37 today. They should be correct now! Thank you to Riica for pointing that out to me!


	38. BSK: Not Wednesday

DAY 62: PINWHEEL

 

_7:10 pm_

“I thought you might take me here,” Seungkwan says.

            Hansol smiles and leads him into the white gazebo in the middle of the park two miles from campus. “I thought it’d be romantic?”

            Seungkwan blushes, stepping up onto the wooden floor to meet Hansol, gazing upward at the pretty swirled carvings on the crown moulding of the ceiling. “Have you seen the movie _It_?”

            Hansol draws in a breath through his teeth. “If I had, I would have cried.”

            Seungkwan looks at him, making a face. “Oh. Never mind then.”

            “Something to do with gazebos?” Hansol asks, watching Seungkwan pace around, sliding his hand along the octagonal railing.

            “Remember when we studied experimental practice?” Seungkwan asks. “And the placebo effect?”

            “Placebo, gazebo,” Hansol says with his American accent.

            Seungkwan nods, turning to face him as they stand across from each other at the edges of the gazebo. “Yeah. It’s…too hard to explain. It was funny.”

            Hansol smiles. “I’m sure. You know, we can go somewhere else tonight, too, if you want. Seokmin said something about a carnival? I just wanted to come here for a little first.”

            “What for?” Seungkwan asks. Besides the fact that it’s pretty and cute and it is somehow romantic and Hansol looks really good in moonlight and all that.

            Hansol looks sideways nonchalantly and shrugs, rocking on his feet. “It’s nice, right?”

            Seungkwan eyes him carefully. “You’re not going to start playing eighties music and propose, are you?”

            Hansol laughs too loud, covering his mouth and shaking his head. “No, that would be awkward.” He stands and looks at Seungkwan and says, “Just…”

            Seungkwan’s heart starts thumping in his chest because something is about to happen but he doesn’t know what it is. Maybe Hansol will bring up the B word or maybe Hansol will say that they should just be friends or maybe Hansol will tell him he’s moving to Switzerland or something totally heavy like all those things and—

            “Dance with me, Seungkwan,” Hansol says, and he puts his hand out like he always does.

            Seungkwan can only stare at it for a second, realizing only now that Hansol hasn’t asked since the day he first kissed Seungkwan in the auditorium. Has Hansol been waiting all this time, trying to find the right moment?

            Foolishly, Seungkwan says, “But…it’s not Wednesday.”

            Hansol smiles really big like he does. Seungkwan imagines his heart glowing blue flame in his chest, warming him up all inside his belly and his chest all the way to his fingertips. Like before, he hardly feels the cold anymore.

            “I know,” Hansol says. “I couldn’t wait another few days.”

            Well…that’s reason enough. So, after over a year, Seungkwan goes to him and takes his hand, placing his other hand on Hansol’s shoulder. Hansol takes his waist, drawing him closer; Seungkwan gasps in a breath and then holds it. Hansol’s smile softens.

            “Finally,” Hansol says. “Now if only I knew how to dance.”

            Seungkwan clicks his tongue and allows himself to laugh for only a second. He shakes his head at Hansol, looking up at him, and says, “We don’t even have any music.”

            Hansol brightens and reaches into his pocket, saying, “Ah—what’s that I hear?”

            Some soft piano music plays from Hansol’s pocket. “ _Clair de lune_ ,” Seungkwan says quietly, wondering if Hansol has had it on a silent loop this whole time, waiting to be turned louder.

            Hansol brings both hands to Seungkwan’s waist, and Seungkwan wraps his arms around Hansol’s neck, delighting in the way he has to reach up when just last year Hansol was the same height as him. Without knowing it, they start to sway. Hansol says, “I know it’s not great but—”

            “No,” Seungkwan says. “I like it.”

            Hansol smiles. “Oh, good. I like you.”

            Seungkwan blushes deeply. Hansol has told him that so many times. Seungkwan always says something else, or thank you—anything but those words back. He knows he likes Hansol, as much as he hates to admit it, but he doesn’t know why it makes him so nervous to think about saying it out loud. Maybe it’s a commitment thing—maybe it’s that labeling thing again. If they both say they like each other, that means something is officially going on between them.

            Seokmin would roll his eyes so far back he’d go blind if Seungkwan said that to him. Of course there’s something. Seungkwan just…

            “This is my favorite Debussy,” Seungkwan says.

            Hansol chuckles. “It’s popular, no?”

            That’s another thing—Hansol never ever gets upset that he doesn’t say it back. Hansol is apparently the best waiter in the whole world.

            Seungkwan nods. “Yeah.”

            “I really do like the pink, Kwannie,” Hansol says.

            Seungkwan blushes again and brings a hand to his hair for a second. He got it dyed yesterday after school when Hansol said he was going to hang out with his roommate for a while. It came out well, but it sort of shocked him. But of course, Hansol said all the compliments he could come up with—how healthy it still looked, how shiny and smooth, what good color tone it has, how beautifully it goes with his skin. It embarrassed Seungkwan a lot, but only because he felt like a little boy with a huge crush. For a second, he figured that he probably was, but then he remembered that Hansol is younger than him and why is this so easy for Hansol when for Seungkwan it’s so terrifying?

            “Thank you,” he says, putting his arm back around Hansol’s neck.

            Hansol hums, gazing into Seungkwan’s eyes. And then he smiles and says, “Prepare yourself.”

            Seungkwan’s insides jump. “For what?”

            “I’m really glad that we met last year,” Hansol says, and Seungkwan shuts his mouth before he ruins it. He’s nowhere near prepared for Hansol to say more nice things, but Hansol is going to do it anyway. “And I’m really glad that you said that thing in the auditorium at the beginning of this year,” Hansol continues. “I’m really happy that I have the chance to know you, and to spend time with you, and to kiss you— _finally_ to kiss you.” His hands get tighter on Seungkwan’s waist, and Seungkwan feels full to the brim with butterflies. “I’ve been wanting to ever since you walked into algebra freshman year at our other school. And I’m so stoked that we’re finally dancing.” He spins them around a little, and Seungkwan follows his steps with somehow perfect ease. “If you can call this dancing,” Hansol says with a laugh. “And I’m glad that you’re here with me now and looking at me like that and…”

            Hansol trails off, staring at him. Seungkwan waits for Hansol to say something else, even though everything he just said is more than Seungkwan could have ever asked for, and more than he ever expected when he first realized he had a crush on Hansol. He’s honestly so ridiculous—Hansol is essentially perfect and Seungkwan is too scared of him to let this go further. Or…he’s too scared of himself. Himself, and the fact that, if they do give this a label, it then presents them with the option of taking it away. Now, they’re in a relatively safe zone where they can’t technically break up with each other since they’re not technically together. Going that step further creates a boundary that can be retracted. Seungkwan still isn’t sure if he’s ready for that yet.

            What he is sure of is that, with all those things Hansol just said, and all the things he’s always said, and the way he’s holding his hips, and the way he’s looking at him, Seungkwan really wants more than just one this time.

            Because Hansol still hasn’t said anything, Seungkwan whispers, “And?”

            “And I really want to kiss you again,” Hansol whispers back.

            So Seungkwan lets him. Hansol kisses his lips once, for a moment, then a few more times, nice and chaste and close-mouthed and comfortable. Which is probably what he thinks Seungkwan wants. And Seungkwan isn’t exactly complaining—he’s really thankful that Hansol is so respectful, but… He just needs more. He has to get the nerve up to talk about it or do it or _something_. He has to. He wants Hansol so badly.

            Hansol kisses his mouth one last time, then his cheek. Seungkwan breathes in shakily and opens his eyes and says, “Hansol—”

            “Ah—I almost forgot,” Hansol says, eyes widening.

            Seungkwan looks up at him, and he lets his chance slip away. “Yeah?”

            “Jisoo is hosting a New Year’s party in his dorm and I wanted to ask you to go with me.”

            Seungkwan blinks, looking away for a second to think. Is Jisoo the kind to host parties? Well, it is his senior year and he does have the biggest dorm at the school. And his roommate—that other senior Johnny—is kind of known for being a “party” type of person. It would make sense for them to invite Hansol, too—Hansol and Jisoo talk sometimes in English and Johnny is from America as well, so. But still—it’s _Jisoo_. Good, 4.0, four-time club leader, senior announcer at games, student body president Jisoo.

            “A party?” Seungkwan asks.

            Hansol smiles. “Yeah. Would you want to?”

            Seungkwan sighs and adjusts his arms on Hansol’s neck. “I don’t really like parties.” Actually, he’s never been to one.

            Hansol nods. “That’s okay. Too bad.” He shrugs and smiles. “I was hoping I could kiss you at midnight, but I understand if you don’t—”

            “I do,” Seungkwan blurts out. He feels his face heating up and looks away from Hansol’s obvious grin. He clears his throat. “Um…I mean, I’ll go with you if you want.”

            Hansol squeezes his waist again. “Awesome.”

            Seungkwan nods, and in the silence that follows, _Clair de lune_ does start over again, confirming Seungkwan’s previous suspicion. Hansol apparently had this all planned too.

            “So,” Hansol says, breaking the silence. “Did you want to go somewhere else, or?”

            Seungkwan wants to say no, let’s just stay here and you can kiss me over and over again and it’ll be more this time and— “No,” Seungkwan says. “Let’s just…stay here.”

            Hansol smiles and looks at him, and, as well as they can, they dance.


	39. XMH: Something To Lose

_7:50 pm_

It made a lot of sense for someone like Seokmin to suggest they go to a carnival that’s been in town for a few weeks. Minghao liked to imagine himself walking in with a pocket full of glitter when they arrived, and that if he were to throw the glitter in the air, each little speck of it would represent one cliché, and the sparkles that got stuck to them—in their hair and on their clothes and dangerously in their eyelashes—would be all the clichés they were about to take part in.

            But that’s not to say it hasn’t gone well since then. The clichés have made things easier, giving them almost a roster of things to do instead of going in blind like last time. And each cliché has been nice on it’s own. The puff of cotton candy on a paper cone—a swirl of baby pink and baby blue that they shared between the two of them, Junhui picking out the blue and Minghao picking out the pink, wondering out loud about why they didn’t just get two while Junhui did some ridiculous giggles Minghao had never expected from him before. The game where Minghao ended up being not so great while Junhui somehow pulled through and won him a Kermit the Frog doll with bendable arms, smiling shyly as he handed it over. The ride that spun them in a vertical circle in the air where Junhui strapped in with full confidence then ended up being the one holding tight to his harness and screaming fairly high-pitched as the wind blew back his bangs and Minghao laughed.

            It’s been good, so far. Junhui has been much more normal, albeit incredibly nervous, though less so as the night went on. He’s both tamer and more excitable, where he looks at Minghao as easily as he can but has shed his cool exterior in favor of a more childlike animism, bouncing on his toes before rides and pointing, wide-eyed, at things he’s found interesting. They haven’t come across anyone from school yet, but Minghao actually thinks that Junhui _would_ introduce him and say they’re on a date—if they asked, at least. Baby steps.

            It’s unfortunate, really, how much Junhui actually is trying. It makes Minghao’s decisions way harder. Damn Soonyoung for being right, and Junhui for being cute. Damn himself for letting his defenses be chipped way so easily.

            Maybe the biggest cliché is now, here on the Ferris wheel with Junhui. At least, when it stops for a while, they aren’t at the very top like in all the movies.

            The Ferris wheel comes to rest with a clunk and Minghao peers over the edge of their seat as it sways. He can’t exactly see the whole world from this height, but he can see the expanse of the carnival and its lights and colors, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t pretty. Junhui mentioned how pretty it was right when they walked in, but Minghao couldn’t see it yet. Maybe Junhui sees things like that better than him. That, or he’s trying a little too hard. Which might not be a bad thing.

            Minghao leans back in the seat again, tugging his jacket close. He really should have worn a better one—winter came a while ago and it’s dark out, bringing cold with it. At least he wore long sleeves.

            “I guess I can’t give you my jacket this time,” Junhui says next to him.

            Minghao looks at him, and he’s smiling gently. He crosses his arms, tucking his hands under them to keep them warm. By accident—he swears—he says, “I still don’t trust you yet.”

            Junhui nods seriously. “I know. You deserve not to.”

            Minghao wishes Junhui had said something dumber. That was the only good answer. He sighs. “I do. This has all been very nice, Junhui, but you can’t expect this to change everything in an instant.”

            He waits for Junhui to frown at him, to start saying how Minghao isn’t being fair and he shouldn’t be so uptight about it and he should give him a fighting chance. But Junhui just nods again. “Of course not. This whole semester’s worth of mistakes on my part can’t be made up in a single night.”

            Minghao clicks his tongue. Who possessed Junhui’s body and turned him into this? This _nice_ thing?

            In a flash of some sort of knowledge, Minghao thinks that maybe it was him.

            “Well, I’m glad we came here,” he says.

            Junhui smiles, his hands politely in his lap, his body a respectful few inches away from Minghao’s. “Me too, Minghao. I think we’ve had a lot of fun?” He tilts his head, asking.

            Minghao nods. “Yeah, we have. Thank you for the cotton candy. And him,” he says, picking up his Kermit from next to him and bending its arms. By accident—he swears—he laughs a little.

            Junhui does too. “For some reason, it suits you.”

            For some reason, Minghao takes that as a compliment. He bends the arms some more and says, “I don’t know why I like frogs.”

            “I’m more of a toad person myself.”

            Minghao looks at Junhui, and Junhui giggles, which makes Minghao smile again and look down to hide it. He puts Kermit back next to his leg and says, “Now I really don’t trust you.”

            Junhui grins. “But do you like me?”

            Inside his head, Minghao hears Soonyoung saying _Confess your heart, Xu Minghao, before it’s too late._ He’s not sure if he’s ready to start listening to everything Soonyoung tells him, but Soonyoung has been right about some things, especially having to do with Junhui. And maybe Minghao needs to take his own orders. He’s been so focused on making Junhui admit it to himself…maybe he needs to do the same.

            He sighs and looks back out at the lights and says, “Sort of.”

            Junhui says, “Will you?”

            Minghao turns back to see Junhui holding his hand out, palm up.

            Minghao could have a long internal debate with himself over it, but right now, he’s too tired and, since he’s admitting things to himself now, too happy. He takes Junhui’s hand to hold.

            The smile that spreads over Junhui’s lips—his honestly perfect lips—is the last thing Minghao needed to see. He faces forward again, and Junhui does too, and the Ferris wheel starts going down.

            Why? Minghao knows he shouldn’t be holding Junhui’s hand, shouldn’t be feeling things for him. What he said and Junhui agreed on was right—one night can’t make up for two months worth of social torture. Which is probably a really bratty and pitiful way to put it—it’s just high school. But it hasn’t exactly been fun, and Junhui has been involved and… Whatever. He’s thought about it too many times at this point and it’s getting exhausting. Besides, it’s over now, hopefully, at least from Junhui. Maybe he should stop thinking so much too. For some reason, that possibility makes him more nervous than anything else.

            The Ferris wheel approaches the bottom, and Minghao says, “That was fun,” and starts to stand. But the ride doesn’t stop, continuing back in its circle with a tremor, and Minghao wobbles on his feet.

            Junhui lets go of his hand to catch him by the waist, and lowers him to the bench.

            Minghao tugs one of Kermit’s legs out from under his thigh and clears his throat. “Thanks.”

            Junhui smiles funny at him. “It’s probably wrong for me to be the one who says this, but…don’t be so nervous.” Minghao watches the scenery lower behind him, Junhui’s face more of a blur in his periphery. Junhui says, “I’m the one who has something to lose here.”

            Minghao asks, “And what’s that?”

            Junhui says, “My chance at you.”

            Minghao blinks away, staring at the lights, unable to look into Junhui’s face. He knows that if he did, he’d only see some look or some shine in Junhui’s big eyes that would make him feel even more the way he shouldn’t be feeling. He nods.

            The Ferris wheel slows again, bringing them to the very top. _Ah,_ Minghao thinks. _Here it is_. Does that mean…?

            A cold breeze blows the same annoying piece of his hair in his face and he brushes it back saying, “It’s pretty up here.”

            “Minghao, let me have another try.”

            Minghao looks over at him finally. “Another try to what?”

            “To kiss you,” Junhui says.

            Minghao pauses. What is it about Ferris wheels? “Tell me why I should.”

            Junhui bites his lip and gets a thinking face. And then he sighs and says, “You know what, you probably shouldn’t. You _really_ shouldn’t because I’m a jerk and I’m no good for someone as good as you. But maybe…maybe you also should because even though you’ve not been looking at me half this time—for good reason—I think I can maybe still see something in there? That maybe you actually might want to hold my hand? Or might actually want to kiss me? Don’t let me tell you one way or the other.” He smiles. “I know you’d never let me anyway. But…maybe if you do want to at all, like even just a little bit…” He shrugs.

            Minghao just looks away again. Why did Junhui have to give the perfect answer? Why does Junhui have to spend his time hiding this real self behind that ridiculous mask of popularity and prep attitude? Why couldn’t he have been like this the whole time? Maybe then things would have been different—maybe something more like what’s happening right now—a long time ago.

            “Okay,” Minghao says.

            “Okay…which part?”

            Minghao looks at him. “Okay I accept your answer. Okay I’ll kiss you.”

            Junhui’s eyes stare into his for a moment, then flick down to his mouth. “Are you sure?”

            “Do it before I change my—”

            Junhui kisses him, and Minghao blinks and closes his eyes. It’s sudden, but it isn’t like before. Their lips are only touching, gently pressed together. Junhui holds it like that for a while, and then kisses him a few times.

            And Minghao doesn’t want it to stop. Everything feels really wrong, but he _does_ want this, and he _does_ like Junhui for whatever reason his mind can’t figure out yet. This is by far the stupidest thing he has ever done. So why is it so _good_?

            By some will, Minghao pulls just barely away from Junhui, feeling the cold air against his lips with the absence of Junhui’s warmth, and with his eyes closed says against Junhui’s mouth, “This is so bad for me.”

            “Tell me what you want, Minghao.”

            Minghao’s whole body floods with heat. “Just…more.”

            Junhui closes the gap again, kissing Minghao a little harder. Minghao moans softly, bringing his hand up to cup Junhui’s face and keeping him close. Junhui scoots closer on the bench, making their seat sway in the air, and puts a hand on Minghao’s thigh, squeezing gently. Minghao sighs into the kiss and tilts his head back, allowing Junhui to deepen it more, their tongues finding each other again. And Minghao tastes that sweetness—that vaguely familiar, completely intoxicating sweetness of Wen Junhui, and he doesn’t know why he’s allowing Junhui to kiss him this way, why he’s up here in a Ferris wheel on an abysmally cliché date with him in the first place, but he couldn’t care less. _Why_ doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that it’s happening, and that it’s making him feel so fluttery and warm inside and who cares how stupid it is that he’s falling for the person who’s treated him so terribly if only indirectly in the past.

            But it’s not him. It’s not that person. Junhui is changing—faster than Minghao thought was possible, he’s changing. He’s trying, just like he said, just like Soonyoung said. He’s not the same as he was before. Maybe Minghao needs to remember that. Maybe Minghao needs to tell himself that this, being with Junhui this way, is okay.

            He slides his hand back to rest on Junhui’s neck, he kisses Junhui with everything he has, and he lets Junhui change.

            A long time passes before they finally slow and lighten their kiss to soft, gentle touches, feeling each other’s breath against their sensitive swollen lips as they calm their hearts. But they don’t stop. They kiss over and over again, unable to break away, Minghao’s hand gentle on Junhui’s neck, Junhui’s palm wrapped around Minghao’s thigh.

            The Ferris wheel starts again and their noses bump together.

            Junhui laughs a little. “Sorry.”

            “It’s okay,” Minghao whispers, smiling against Junhui’s lips.

            Junhui says, “That was…”

            “It was really…” Minghao can’t even say anything. It was nothing like he’s ever done before, or like he’s ever felt before. “Um…” He leans back and stares into Junhui’s face as Junhui slowly takes his hand off his thigh. “Thanks.”

            Junhui blinks big eyes. “I should be thanking you. You shouldn’t…I don’t deserve this from you yet. If ever.”

            Minghao smiles a little. “Maybe eventually.”

            Junhui nods. “I’ll try, Minghao.”

            Minghao realizes then that he doesn’t need to hear anything else.

            He puts his hand out, and Junhui takes it as they make their way to the ground.


	40. CSC: Madly, From the Start

DAY 67: ROCKET

 

_10:35 am_

It was an otherwise silent week and weekend from Jeonghan. Silent, but not empty. They didn’t text each other, they didn’t speak to each other; but during class, Seungcheol would sit down next to Jeonghan and smile at him, and Jeonghan would look at him with those beautiful sad eyes, and that would be enough. The fact that Jeonghan showed up every day to classes at all was enough. Seungcheol thinks he’s strong just for that.

            Jeonghan would look at Jihoon sometimes too—never for long, just a quick glance behind him in class or to his side in the hall. But that’s a lot more than was happening before, so Seungcheol figures that’s enough, too.

            Otherwise, he’s waiting. He talks to Jihoon, and Jihoon says he’s waiting just as well. At first, back in the gym, Seungcheol had been sure that once Jeonghan ran off down the hall and the door closed, Jihoon would look at him with that intense gaze of his and say _What did I tell you_ or something like it. But he didn’t, and he and Seungcheol talked for a while about Jeonghan, and about what they might do, and they decided that maybe it was best not to do anything but look open and willing to Jeonghan until he came to them. “He can’t be forced into it,” Jihoon had said. “And in the end, he’ll have to help himself.” Seungcheol couldn’t have been happier then that he found Jihoon in the library.

            Today, over a week since then, Seungcheol walks into the hallway outside of their class with Jihoon, and Jeonghan is at his locker.

            “I think I’ll say something,” Seungcheol says.

            Jihoon hums. “Maybe he’s ready,” he replies, looking at Jeonghan across the hall.

            “Nothing too much.” Jeonghan brushes his hair behind his ear as he looks down into his backpack so that half of his face is in profile for Seungcheol while his hair sways on the other side. That alone is beautiful. “Just hi, or something,” Seungcheol says.

            Jihoon nods. “Tell me later. See you in class.” He goes into their history room.

            Seungcheol takes a deep breath and goes to his boyfriend.

            Jeonghan looks up at him, blinking. He doesn’t say anything.

            Seungcheol didn’t plan anything, but ‘just hi’ was a blatant lie to himself. He smiles and says, “You look like you’re doing well, Hannie. And…we’re really proud of you. And we’re still here, whenever you’re ready.” Jeonghan looks at him, unmoving, holding his backpack in his hands. He doesn’t mean to, but Seungcheol laughs softly, because Yoon Jeonghan has always been too much for his heart to handle. He says, “Just know that I’ve loved you, Jeonghan, madly, from the start.” And then he leans in to kiss Jeonghan’s cheek.

            Jeonghan keeps looking at him, following Seungcheol’s movements with his gaze and meeting his eyes.

            Seungcheol smiles again and nods. “Okay. I’ll see you later, Hannie.” And he turns to walk into class.

            Jihoon questions him with his gaze, and Seungcheol makes the best face he can to convey _I have absolutely no idea_. Jihoon nods, and Seungcheol takes his seat.


	41. BSK: Top One

_11:40 am_

“Dang, everyone’s getting together, huh?” Seokmin says, picking grapes off a bunch from his tray.

            Seungkwan and Hansol both follow Seokmin’s gaze over to the doors of the lunchroom. Mingyu and Wonwoo are walking out, apparently eating alone together in the courtyard today instead of inside with all the noise. They go with each other, Mingyu carrying their trays while Wonwoo carries juice boxes in two sweater-covered hands, to a table far away from everyone else, and Seungkwan isn’t sure he ever saw Jeon Wonwoo laugh so much and so freely in the whole time he’s known who he was.

            He sighs and pokes his rice. “Ah, they’re really cute.”

            “Is it fair that the two handsomest guys picked each other?” Seokmin asks.

            Seungkwan frowns at him. “Yah. What does that make the rest of us?”

            Seokmin clicks his tongue and puts a hand out in the couple’s direction. “Look at them. At least in our class they’re the most handsome.”

            “Third period?” Hansol asks, mouth full of something.

            Seokmin nods. “Though Junhui might pose some competition.”

            “I happen to think we’re top three,” Hansol says. Seungkwan looks up at him, and Seokmin gasps. Hansol nods and draws a circle between the three of them. “For sure.”

            “You’re top one then,” Seokmin says. Hansol does a bro shake with him over the table.

            Seungkwan snorts. “He’s just saying that because we’re here. If you were Junhui, or if I were, like, Jeonghan, he’d say the same thing.”

            Seokmin deadpans at him. Hansol leans into Seungkwan’s side and says, “You’re top one to me, Seungkwan. No joke.”

            Seungkwan mutters something, which makes Hansol laugh, and Seungkwan pushes him away.

            Seokmin snaps his fingers and says, “By the way—speaking of Jun. He has a boyfriend now, too. Or he’s at least dating him.”

            Hansol hums, nodding. “Yeah, Minghao. Another couple from our third period. We talked about them once, remember Kwannie? Our first date. Crazy, huh?”

            Seungkwan feels sort of tingly that Hansol said their first date, but to hide it he lifts his eyebrows in agreement, leaning his elbow on the table. “Crazy that Jun finally said something. He’s been pining over Minghao for like, the entire year.”

            “Maybe it was Minghao who started it. You know, for a second I thought he and Soonyoung were doing a thing,” Hansol says, “with Soonyoung coming to class with him—and like, _actually_ coming to class—and all.”

            Seungkwan nods like that could have been true.

            “Isn’t Soonyoung straight?” Seokmin asks.

            Seungkwan and Hansol frown in unison and look at each other. Hansol shrugs. “Not sure?” Seungkwan says.

            “He’s crazy too,” Hansol says.

            Seokmin nods and eats a grape.

            “Now we just have to get the king and queen back together,” Seungkwan says like it’s a difficult mission.

            Hansol makes a face at him. “But Kwannie, we’re already having lunch?”

            Seungkwan turns pink. But even so, Hansol said they’re “having lunch,” not that they’re “together” or “boyfriends.” They _still_ haven’t labeled it anything like that yet. Having lunch, hanging out, studying together is the closest they’ve gotten. Plus like, some kissing and hugs and stuff. Which is really great and Seungkwan is really happy with it, aside from the fact that he _still_ hasn’t gotten up the nerve to ask Hansol for a little more. But…does Hansol really think of them like that? King and queen is a dumb way to put it but…Hansol obviously likes him a whole lot, and like his roommate said, the whole school knows it. Maybe, since everyone already thinks they’re together…maybe it’s time to just—

            “Oh my god,” Seokmin says. “That was incredibly smooth. You really are top one.”

            Hansol grins and gives him another bro shake.

            Seungkwan swallows and waves his chopsticks at Hansol. “Yeah well—the king says eat your food.”

            Hansol goes wide-eyed. “Oh, so you’re the king!”

            “Arguably, if we’re talking about the kingdom of the school, he is,” Seokmin says, tilting his head toward another table where Jisoo is sitting with some of his senior friends. Seungkwan watches him wave over Chan, who freezes for half a second before grinning and going to sit with them, bowing to everyone.

            “We’re going to his party,” Hansol says. “You should come.”

            Seokmin tilts his head a bit. “Am I invited?”

            “By us,” Hansol says, motioning to Seungkwan. “And I’m pretty sure like our whole third period is coming anyway. Jisoo’s classes.”

            Seokmin’s eyebrows go up. “Really? All right. I’ll go.”

            Seungkwan feels a bit of relief that he’ll have another friend to be with at the party. Being alone with Hansol in that setting might be even more nerve-wracking. He looks back at Jisoo’s table, then remembers something and slaps his palm on the table. He leans in a little and says, “I heard Jisoo has a girlfriend who goes to the university twenty minutes away.”

            Hansol and Seokmin share a _wah,_ eyes wide. “No way,” Hansol says.

            “I wonder how much older she is,” Seokmin says.

            Hansol shakes his head and leans back. “Hong Jisoo.”

            “You always have the best gossip,” Seokmin says.

            Seungkwan shrugs nonchalantly. It’s usually nice gossip, at least. And this one is true—he heard it straight from Jisoo’s mouth the other day when he was walking by him in the hall. “Anyway,” he says, “I was going to say earlier, what with the models, the royalty, and the can’t-believe-it-finally-happened—isn’t it coincidental that all the power couples are in our class? Like those cheesy teen novels with like eight points of view. Or those Netflix shows where the kids actually talk to each other and are excited in class.”

            Seokmin stops with a grape held up to his lips and says, “Huh.” Seungkwan reaches over and takes it, popping it into his mouth. Seokmin pulls his tray further away from Seungkwan and says, “Well anyway, after those three, there’s only one left.”

            Under the table, Hansol briefly places his hand on Seungkwan’s thigh. Seungkwan startles and looks down at it before blushing again.

            Seokmin chuckles. “Well, it would have been discreet if he was a more discreet person,” he says to Hansol.

            Hansol smiles and nods. “He’ll get used to it one day.”


	42. KMG: Heartbreaker

_4:00 pm_

Mingyu lies on his stomach on the floor of his dorm, his chin in his hands, kicking his feet in the air while Wonwoo writes some notes down in front of him, cross-legged, looking between his book and his notebook in his lap. Mingyu likes watching Wonwoo’s handwriting continually slant to the right for a few lines until he backtracks, making little waves of words near the margin of his page.

            “You have such nice hands,” Mingyu says.

            Wonwoo smiles and keeps writing. “Thank you. So do you.”

            Mingyu frowns. “My hands are small.”

            Wonwoo shrugs, finding a line in his book with the eraser of his pencil. “Doesn’t seem to matter when it’s important.”

            Mingyu’s cheeks warm up a little. “Oh. Thank you.”

            “Thank you.”

            Mingyu stares at the floor for a while. Then he stops kicking his legs and says, “Wonwoo?”

            “Mm?”

            “Do you believe what Minhyuk said? About…that you have to be careful of me?”

            Wonwoo just looks at his notes. “Well, I was a little afraid you were going to break me two days ago.”

            Mingyu blushes again. “Ah…I mean…”

            Wonwoo puts his pencil down and looks at Mingyu with a smile. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Mingyu.”

            Mingyu sighs and chews on the inside of his lip. “I am?”

            Wonwoo hums. “Maybe you’ll break mine. Maybe I’ll break yours. But I don’t expect that, and I certainly don’t think we should turn it into a self-fulfilling prophecy by worrying about it.”

            Of course. Wonwoo always has the right thing to say. He’s too smart for Mingyu. Mingyu sighs again and nods. “Yeah. Of course. You’re right.”

            “I do believe that you’re different now,” Wonwoo says. “Maybe it’s just your face that matches the heartbreaker label. Which it definitely does.” Mingyu laughs and does a goofy smile, his cheeks squished in his hands. “But I think you’re who you need to be now. Instead of—” He points at Mingyu.

            Mingyu smiles and rolls onto his back, flopping his arms out to his sides. “Someone I’m not,” he says, looking up at Wonwoo’s upside-down image.

            Wonwoo nods at him.

            Mingyu smiles and says, “Pretend I’m Lois Lane,” and puckers out his lips.

            Wonwoo smiles, leans over and kisses him, then whispers against his lips, “That’s Superman,” and sits back up.

            Mingyu blinks at the ceiling. “Oh yeah.”

            “Listen to this next monologue,” Wonwoo says, going back to his book. “I think it’s amazing.”

            Mingyu nods and pays attention.

            “ _Now entertain conjecture of a time,_ ” Wonwoo reads, “ _where creeping murmur and the poring dark fills the wide vessel of the universe…_ ”

            Mingyu lies there listening to Wonwoo read from _Henry V._ Wonwoo did tell him before that it was his favorite Shakespeare play, and while Mingyu doesn’t understand a lot of what’s going on, he still loves listening to Wonwoo read it. Wonwoo’s voice is so good for reading, and he reads out loud like you can read in your head, with actual inflection and pace, like Wonwoo is telling him the story from his memory after experiencing it himself. Yet another thing Wonwoo is just simply good at.

            “It’s great,” Wonwoo says when he’s done.

            Mingyu nods and smiles at him. “It is. It’s sad, though.”

            “He’s waiting to die,” Wonwoo says. “Shakespeare is very good at telling you what is going to happen and then making you wait an entire play for it. You know the characters will die, but you have to wait until the end to see it happen, and to find out how. You know the teasing friends will become lovers, but you have to wait until the last act to see them get together.”

            “I might get impatient,” Mingyu admits. “Waiting for a couple to finally fall in love.”

            Wonwoo smiles and closes his book, leaning over Mingyu again. “But it isn’t the finally that matters—it’s everything that brings them to it.”

            Mingyu gazes up at him. “I think I might just skip to the end,” he says quietly.

            Wonwoo smiles, shaking his head at him.

            Then Mingyu says, “Oh!” and starts to sit up just as Wonwoo is leaning down to kiss him, and their foreheads knock together.

            Mingyu yelps and falls back to the floor holding his head, and Wonwoo leans back doing the same. “Ouch,” he says evenly.

            Mingyu starts giggling uncontrollably. “Oh my—Wonwoo, I’m s—ah, that hurt!” He laughs and curls up onto his side.

            Wonwoo chuckles and sticks a socked foot out, nudging Mingyu’s shoulder. “Yah. You ruined the moment.”

            Mingyu giggles for a while longer, then sighs heavily and sits up, grinning at Wonwoo. “We were about to make out after you read a monologue about the premonition of death. What’s wrong with us anyway?”

            “Maybe death turns me on,” Wonwoo says, lifting an eyebrow.

            Mingyu groans and rolls his eyes. “All right. Let me just get the stupid gift before we get into kink talk.”

            “Gift?” Wonwoo asks as Mingyu stands and goes to his bedside table.

            “Mhm.” Mingyu opens the drawer and pulls out a little black rectangular box with a pink ribbon around the middle. He comes back and sits down in front of Wonwoo again. “My two favorite colors on you,” he says, holding the box out in his hands.

            Wonwoo takes it and holds it up to look at. “It looks like a pen box.”

            Mingyu’s smile plasters onto his face and he blinks a few times. “Well that may or may not be what it is.”

            Wonwoo laughs and slides the ribbon off, removing the lid of the box. Inside is indeed a black and gold pen with an intricate cursive _W_ engraved into the side. Wonwoo immediately smiles, which is all Mingyu was really hoping for, and turns it in his fingers, putting the box down. “Wow,” he says. “This is really beautiful, Mingyu.” He pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Why did you get this?”

            Mingyu shrugs, smiling softly. “I just thought you’d like it. No reason really.”

            Wonwoo twists the pen and the ballpoint comes out. He grins again and says, “Thank you, Mingyu.”

            “Try it out,” Mingyu says, nodding at Wonwoo’s notebook.

            Wonwoo picks his notebook up and starts to write something, then stops, mouth opening in surprise. Like Mingyu did when he saw him in his sweater, he says, “Pink!”

            Mingyu giggles again. “Like I said. One of my favorites.”

            Wonwoo drops his hands to his lap and looks at Mingyu. Mingyu is about to ask what it is when Wonwoo puts down his notebook and pen and leans forward, taking Mingyu’s face in his hands and kissing him. Mingyu hums and kisses him back until Wonwoo leans away again. “Thank you,” Wonwoo says. “I’ll figure out something to equal this.”

            _That alone was enough_ , Mingyu thinks. He smiles and says, “I have black ink in the drawer if you want. I’m glad you like it.”

            Wonwoo sighs and picks up the pen again. “You really are a heartbreaker.”

            Mingyu wants to just keep kissing him now. “Wonwoo?”

            “Mm?”

            “Can I call you something?”

            Wonwoo blinks at him. “As long as it’s nice.”

            “Of course,” Mingyu says with a click of his tongue. “I’m thinking baby or babe. Which one?”

            Wonwoo tilts his head. “That sort of depends on the moment, doesn’t it?”

            Mingyu frowns. “You’re right. Well…can I try them?”

            Wonwoo laughs and nods.

            Mingyu situates himself as if it’s an important speech he’s about to make. He clears his throat. “Babe?”

            Wonwoo tries not to laugh. “Yeah?”

            Mingyu tries too. “I hear there’s a party on New Year’s Eve. Do you want to go with me?”

            Wonwoo smiles. “I think I would like that.”

            Mingyu nods seriously. “Great. Babe.”

            They both start laughing, and Mingyu thinks it only sort of worked. The first one was better, anyway. But then Wonwoo leans forward and climbs into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and bringing their faces close together. Mingyu’s breathing falters and he takes hold of Wonwoo’s waist—his favorite place to hold, he realized quickly.

            “But…you have to kiss me at midnight,” Wonwoo says, quiet enough that it could almost be a whisper. “Will you?”

            Mingyu tugs Wonwoo’s body closer to his. His lips brush against Wonwoo’s, and he breathes, “Yes, baby.”

            They close the distance between them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait guys. It's hectic here right now but it'll level off in about a week. Sorry if the chapters are slow until then!


	43. XMH/WJH: The Prep's Confession (Instead of Me)

_5:00 pm_

What time Junhui never gave before, he has now devoted solely to Minghao for every day since they were on that Ferris wheel. Of course, during school, they went to their own classes and with their own friends at lunch, and Minghao does still notice that Junhui isn’t making it obvious to his friends that he’s in this thing with Minghao, but it has definitely been more than a start, and like Soonyoung said, it would be unfair for Minghao to expect Junhui to change in an instant. Junhui is still trying and doing the best he can right now, and that has been enough.

            Besides, once the final bell rang, or once Junhui got out of lacrosse practice on those days, time became theirs to spend together, and Junhui has _really_ been trying then. Minghao didn’t exactly ask to be doted on, catered to for his every whim, but Junhui seems to be completely willing and excited to do that for him at this point. Minghao knows it won’t last forever, but that little bit of sadism still makes him smile and laugh a little inside when Junhui works way too hard to make up for himself in the past. No, Minghao didn’t ask to be treated like royalty, but Junhui is doing it anyway, and it’s not like he’s going to say no.

            When they can’t leave campus after school, they go to the basement of the library where all the old books are and look at anything random, or they go to the big field over by the music building with all the trees, and they sit and listen to play practice inside and just talk together. On the weekend they went on a long walk in the city where the buskers play, and wandered an old secondhand store with poor lighting and dust everywhere, and Junhui sneezed an unfortunately adorable sneeze about twenty times. On Wednesday they went bowling, and Junhui wore a sleeveless shirt under his two jackets, and every time he went up with a ball Minghao watched his arms, the lean muscle built from four years of lacrosse doing fairly hypnotic motions under his skin. And then he would laugh when Junhui threw a gutter ball, and Junhui would pout, and Minghao would be fair and discreet when he kissed him.

            Until they were somewhere no one could see, that is. Sitting high up in the tree with the broken-off branch in that field, Minghao looked at the slats of light on Junhui’s cheeks through the leaves, at how the wind blew his bangs back from his perfectly shaped face, at how his eyes crinkled on the corners when he squinted in the sun or smiled, and Minghao kissed him for a long time. In the basement of the library, tugging Junhui around a stack of books; on a streetlamp-lit sidewalk where a woman was playing a violin; in the shadowed corner of the shop where dust motes floated around Junhui’s silhouetted form; against the bricks of the outer wall of the bowling alley while the beginnings of snow were alighting in Junhui’s bangs. In any place they could, they kissed—always to Junhui’s surprise and delight, and to Minghao’s absolute dismay. By the day, Minghao finds himself more and more interested in Wen Junhui. He was handsome from the start—there was never any doubt about that—but now he’s _attractive_ , and Minghao feels an incredibly strong physical chemistry with him. He can’t stop looking for ways to get them alone so Junhui can let go and kiss him without hesitation. He can’t stop looking for opportunities to hear that little hum Junhui does whenever Minghao pulls him against his mouth, to feel Junhui’s hand come to rest on his waist and squeeze, to taste that intoxicating sweetness on his tongue. It isn’t right for it to be going this fast, and Junhui is nowhere near perfect yet and Minghao isn’t completely trusting of him yet, and the fact that they still do have to hide when they get physically close to each other isn’t great. But there’s no way Minghao is going to pull the reins on it when it feels this good, and he’s sure Junhui would agree. Eventually, the final things that need to change will change, so for right now, Minghao is at least happy with where they are.

            And happy is a gross understatement.

            “Point-zero-four means it’s good, right?” Junhui asks, frowning down at his math notebook.

            Minghao puts his hand out again, and Junhui hands the notebook over across the space between them. They’re sitting cross-legged in front of each other on Minghao’s bed in his dorm, Junhui hunched over his lap and working on statistics, Minghao leaning back against the wall with his pillows supporting his back, studying his English notes. When Soonyoung borrowed his notebook, he left little weird drawings and one-liners all over the pages for Minghao to see later, and every time Minghao laughs or shakes his head at one, Junhui asks to see and laughs too. When Minghao takes Junhui’s math homework, Junhui grabs Minghao’s notebook and looks closely at some thing that might be an alien or a poodle drawn on the margin of the page.

            “Pay attention,” Minghao says, holding back a smile. Junhui says a quick sorry and gives the notebook back. Minghao looks over Junhui’s work, checking his final P-value, then gives him a nod. “Yes. Anything less that point-oh-five means strong evidence.” He hands the notebook back.

            Junhui takes it and nods seriously, circling his answer. “Right. Thank you.” Then he laughs and shakes his head. “You can tell I’m not going to be a mathematician later in life.”

            Minghao hums. “That’s okay. I think most people aren’t amazing at math. What do you want to be, then?”

            Junhui spends a moment tapping his pencil on his leg, thinking, then shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know? I’m only good at lacrosse.”

            Minghao makes a face at him. “That’s not true. You’re sociable and tall and charismatic and handsome—you could do tons of things.”

            Junhui blinks at him. “Oh…well, I—I don’t know what I like yet. Thank you. Uh—what about you?”

            Junhui still gets nervous—not as much, but when Minghao says something nice or something even remotely sexual, Junhui becomes flustered. Minghao thinks it’s really cute and innocent. It makes him say those things more, for some reason. More than once, he’s realized that it makes him want to see what would happen if that innocence broke.

            “My dream job is photography,” he says. Junhui smiles and nods like he figured that much already from what Minghao has told him. “But I’ve been thinking about architectural design,” Minghao says.

            Junhui makes his eyes bigger. “Really? You could totally do that. You’re, like, super artsy and stuff. You could design the coolest buildings ever.”

            Minghao laughs. “You think so?”

            Junhui nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. Plus, you’re good at math.”

            Minghao shrugs one shoulder. “Sort of. It’s just a matter of hard work.”

            Junhui shakes his head. “Not true. I could work as hard as I possibly could and still not be as good at math as you. You have a capacity for education that other people don’t have, Minghao. Some people are just good at learning.”

            Minghao can’t really help a smile then. He thinks, _See. This is who you’re supposed to be._ “You’re not hosting a party on New Year’s, are you?”

            Junhui shakes his head. “Nope. I hear it’s Jisoo’s job this year. Why? Did you want to go?” As if realizing what Minghao hasn’t asked yet, he brightens even more and starts to gasp.

            Minghao interrupts him with, “Yes, I will.”

            Junhui grins big. “Really?”

            “That’s a silly question at this point, Jun.”

            Junhui giggles and looks down at his notebook again. “You’re right. Since we’re, like…dating.” He says the last word a little quieter, tucking his shoulders up. Minghao chuckles, and Junhui leans forward and kisses his cheek. When he leans back, he’s blushing, and he says, “Can you help me with the next one? It’s permutation.”

            Minghao rolls his eyes and leans forward to look at the notes with Junhui. He explains the formula, how to easily work through factorials by cancelling out the double numbers on the top and bottom of the fraction, then how to change the problem into a combination if the order of the items is important.

            Junhui listens intently, working through the problem as Minghao explains it to him. When he realizes the problem is done, his pencil stops and he blinks at his page. “Wow. You explained that way better than my teacher.” He looks up at Minghao across from him and frowns. “How are you so smart?”

            “I worked on these subjects last year,” Minghao says, smiling.

            “As a _freshman_?” Junhui says.

            Minghao laughs and shrugs again. “I did well at my old school, I guess. And technically I was a second year.”

            Junhui lowers his hands, and his notebook and pencil go sliding off his lap onto the bed. “You’re too smart, Xu Minghao.” His eyes soften, becoming almost sad. “Too everything.”

            Junhui stares at him then, and with all that’s been going on lately and all that he’s been feeling, Minghao isn’t surprised when he finds himself moving their books out of the way to go forward and kiss Junhui again. Junhui makes that little hum when their lips meet, and Minghao holds his face gently while Junhui rests a hand on his leg. “Minghao…” Junhui says, and then makes another soft noise when Minghao pushes harder, making the kiss deeper, faster. He can feel Junhui’s hand tightening on his leg when he bites down on Junhui’s lip, but it falls away to rest behind Junhui to prop himself up when Minghao gets on his knees and brings his hands to Junhui’s jeans. He shoves Junhui’s shirt out of the way and manages to get to button undone.

            Junhui hums again and breaks the kiss. “Ah—Minghao—”

            Minghao stops to look at him. Junhui doesn’t say anything else for a while, just brings one hand up to rub the back of his neck and looks down away from Minghao’s gaze. “Do you not want to?” Minghao asks, his fingers holding the zipper.

            Junhui shakes his head, looking almost desperately into Minghao’s eyes again. “No, I do. I want to. It’s just, um…”

            “I have what we need, if that’s what it is,” Minghao says, tilting his head toward his dresser. He expected Junhui to be nervous since it’s him, but he didn’t expect Junhui to want to stop when it just started. Maybe Junhui actually isn’t ready for this with him just yet. Maybe he should be thankful for that.

            “No,” Junhui says, “it’s—that’s good. I’m just…”

            Minghao blinks at him, and it hits him, looking into Junhui’s dark, shining eyes. Was he silly to think otherwise? Junhui always just seemed so…

            He sits back on his heels and takes his hands away from Junhui’s pants. “Oh.”

            Junhui sucks in his lower lip and looks down. “Yeah.”

            “I didn’t know,” Minghao says softly, shaking his head. “I always thought…I mean, you’re so popular and charismatic and…”

            “Yeah. I know.” Junhui does a humorless laugh. “I’m really not what everyone likes to think of me. I can throw a ball and fake a friendship but otherwise…I’m nothing special.”

            “Jun, don’t say that,” Minghao says, frowning at him. He puts his hands out and says, “Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t mean… You’re nothing less because of it. Honestly, I actually kind of like it about you.”

            Junhui looks up at him, confused. “You do?”

            Minghao smiles a little and tilts his head. “Yeah. It’s cool that you’re not just running around with people because you’re popular and good-looking.”

            Junhui blushes again. “Oh. Yeah. God, I’m really embarrassed,” he says, bringing a hand to his forehead.

            “No, it’s totally okay.” Minghao scoots a little closer to him. “It’s a little unexpected, I’ll admit, but…I’m also kind of honored. That you want it to be me.”

            Junhui looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his face. He just says, “I do. I like you a lot.”

            “I like you a lot too, Jun. For some reason,” Minghao says. He laughs and pushes Junhui’s knee. “And if you want this then so do I.”

            Junhui sighs heavily, trying to get his nerves out. “So…you’re _not_ a virgin then?”

            Minghao thinks that before this week with Junhui, he might have slapped him in the face had he asked something like that. But now, especially in this specific situation, he feels compelled to share with Junhui that information if it will make him feel better, or help Junhui understand him more. “No,” he says. “But I’ve only ever done it twice before so it’s not like I’m amazingly experienced either.”

            Junhui says, “Still more than me. Was he your boyfriend? Or she, girlfriend?”

            Minghao smiles. “Well, I’m a hundred percent gay so he was my boyfriend, yes. Sort of. I mean, we met at the end of last year at my old school and it was the beginning of this past summer that we were together that way and…” He shrugs. “It wasn’t a very serious thing. And we did have sex twice—really the second time was to see if we could make it better than the first.” He chuckles. “We didn’t, and the relationship kind of went down pretty quickly from there. I just knew it wasn’t right with him so we didn’t do it again and we broke up mutually a week later. And then I moved to this school, so.”

            Junhui watches him with those desperate eyes while he talks, and Minghao can tell he’s truly listening to every word. When Minghao finishes, he says, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

            “I’m not.” Minghao smiles at Junhui’s big eyes. “If I had stayed with him, one, I wouldn’t be happy and might possibly be having not very great sex. And two, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

            It’s weird that he wants to say things like that now. When did he get so soft for Wen Junhui? Somehow the physical pull he feels to Junhui made his little seed of sort of liking him grow into something more fond and affectionate. It doesn’t help that Junhui is really cute and perfectly innocent. Now Minghao understands a little more of why he is that way. But, if Junhui will have him, he _really_ wants to see what it’s like to break it.

            Junhui sits there chewing his lip. “I don’t know if it’ll be very great with me either,” he says.

            Minghao tilts his head again and puts on a thinking face. “Mmm…I didn’t feel for him the right way, I don’t think. I think that was the reason it wasn’t what it might have been. I didn’t feel very close to him, and didn’t feel very passionate about him. Even when we kissed I didn’t get all warm and tingly inside, you know? Like…the way I feel with you. For you.”

            Jeez. It really grew, didn’t it.

            Junhui says, “Minghao…”

            “Jun.” He smiles gently.

            Junhui draws in a deep breath, still trying to calm himself down. “I really do want to, Minghao. You say such kind things about me when I don’t deserve them and—and I feel the same about you. And it doesn’t matter to me that you’ve done it before. I mean like—I don’t hold it against you. Of course I don’t, how could I? Like, it’s fine that…” His face scrunches up. “What am I saying?”

            “That you’re ready and I’m here and ready for you, too.”

            Junhui shuts up and looks into his eyes. “Yeah. I’m ready.” Minghao gives him a look that’s actually asking this time, and Junhui nods once. “I’m ready, Minghao.”

            Minghao smiles. “Good.” He leans forward and kisses Junhui softly. “We’ll take it step by step. To start off, there’s something I have to ask you.”

            Junhui nods. “Yeah?”

            “You may or may not know the answer yet, but are you a top or a bottom?”

            Junhui flushes red, and he looks at Minghao with worry all over his features. “Oh no. Minghao—I know you’re maybe—probably a-a top but I don’t know if—”

            “I’m not.” He smiles when Junhui’s whole body seems to relax the tiniest bit in relief. “Good. I think it’ll work out then.”

            Junhui sighs heavily. “Oh. Good.” He bites down on his lip again and says, “But Minghao…I know sometimes it can hurt and…”

            Minghao has to keep himself from laughing at how cute and considerate Junhui is. Yeah, it can hurt, but Minghao’s pain threshold is high, and he’s also pretty sure that Junhui won’t be doing anything that’ll cause him a lot of pain anyway. Besides, they’ll make sure they’re ready before they actually start. “I’ll tell you everything, okay?” he says. “We’ll take it easy and figure things out as we go.”

            Junhui sighs again. “Yeah, of course.”

            “All right.” Minghao gets up from the bed and goes to his dresser, opening the second drawer and coming back with the two things they need, placing them on the bed next to him when he sits down again in front of Junhui. He smiles as Junhui stares at them with clearly nervous eyes.

            Junhui blinks up at him. “So, um…”

            “Should I go back to where I was?” Minghao asks, quieter, trying to help Junhui calm his nerves.

            Junhui nods.

            Minghao brings his hands back to the front of Junhui’s jeans and takes the zipper, but then finds Junhui’s shirt instead and says, “Why don’t we start with this?” Junhui nods again and raises his arms halfway. Minghao slides his shirt over his head, laying it to the side. Junhui’s hair sticks up around his head, and Minghao grins. “Your shoulder to waist ratio is no joke,” he says, reaching up and smoothing down Junhui’s bangs.

            “Please no more math,” Junhui says, closing his eyes to Minghao’s touch.

            Minghao clicks his tongue and raises his eyebrows at him. “See? You’re more comfortable already if you’re making jokes.” Junhui just smiles awkwardly and looks down again. “But it’s good that you’re confident with your body.”

            Junhui nods again. “I was really skinny before I started lacrosse. I’m still skinny but it’s better, I think.”

            Minghao tilts his head. “It’s great, Jun. My turn.” He sits back again and takes off his turtleneck, his earrings dangling back into place.

            Junhui does that thing where he doesn’t try not to stare. “And _you_ talk about being skinny,” Minghao says with a chuckle, dropping his shirt near Junhui’s. He looks back and Junhui is frowning. “What?”

            “Your arms,” Junhui says. “I just realized I’ve never seen you sleeveless. You _must_ work out.”

            “I did martial arts as a kid,” Minghao says. “And the muscle kind of stuck around in my arms. Don’t tell Soonyoung. He still thinks you could kick our asses in a fight.”

            Junhui’s cheeks redden. “No way. I’ve never even punched anything. Like ever. Did you really do martial arts?”

            Minghao hums. “Maybe one day I’ll show off my nunchuck skills to you.”

            Junhui’s eyes get even bigger. “Whoa. Really?”

            Minghao smiles gently at him. “Really. We’re talking a lot, Junhui, and I think we’re stalling.”

            Junhui closes his mouth. “Ah…you know me. I’m nervous.”

            “We really don’t have to,” Minghao says.

            Junhui shakes his head fast again. “I really want to. I do. I’m sorry I’m so awkward.”

            Minghao sighs, wanting to smack himself for being so unable to resist Junhui’s adorable face. He gets up from the bed without a word and turns on his bedside lamp.

            “What are—”

            “Shhh,” Minghao says, hushing him, and goes to the light switch. He flicks it down, turning off the overhead lights, and Junhui is left looking up at the ceiling, cast golden by the inexpensive yellow lightbulb in Minghao’s lamp.

            “Oh,” Junhui says softly.

            Junhui watches Minghao closely as he comes back to the bed. Minghao climbs up and goes to Junhui, and kisses him deeply. When he leans back, Junhui’s eyes are closed, but he blinks them open and Minghao says, “Let’s try to do the rest without talking too much. Do you want to take off my clothes?”

            Junhui doesn’t say anything, just swallows and nods, barely. Minghao smiles and kisses him again, and his hands find Junhui’s face. He situates himself to lie back on the bed and Junhui follows, leaning over him. Minghao finds one of Junhui’s wrists and takes it, bringing Junhui’s hand between them to the waistband of his jeans. Junhui stops kissing him to look at it, then at Minghao’s eyes. Minghao just smiles. He can see Junhui’s hands trembling badly, the breath he draws in to try to help it. Junhui manages with a few tries to get Minghao’s button undone, the zipper pulled down. He tucks his fingers into the edge of Minghao’s pants and underwear and says, “Your—” It comes out as a whisper, so he clears his throat and says again, “Your hips.”

            Minghao lifts them while Junhui slides his clothes off, tugging them off his ankles until Minghao is naked underneath him. He watches Junhui’s eyes travel over his body, figuring this is probably the first time he’s seen another boy, and one who he likes, totally naked. “Is everything okay?” Minghao asks, just to make Junhui blush.

            Junhui does, and he looks quickly back at Minghao’s face. “Y-yes. Yes it’s—you’re, um…”

            Minghao smiles and says, “Do you know how to prep?”

            Junhui looks really flustered for a moment before stammering out, “I—I know, like, the concept of it and like—how you—but I don’t know if—”

            “That’s okay,” Minghao says, holding back laughter. “I’ll take care of it and maybe next time you can?” He reaches for the bottle he brought to the bed while Junhui gets big eyes like he’s only now realizing the possibility of a next time.

            Junhui watches Minghao while he does it, the way he pours it onto his fingers and spreads his legs, the way he doesn’t just go right in but relaxes himself to start, laying his head back and closing his eyes, coaxing his fingers in. Junhui looked away at first—out of both respect and sheer embarrassment, Minghao knows—but he told Junhui to watch, that he needed to learn. But he also just loved the way Junhui gulped when he pushed in his second finger and moaned softly on purpose.

            At just the point when Minghao thinks he’s ready, he sees Junhui shift on his knees, moving his hips a little. Apparently Junhui is ready now too. Minghao draws his fingers out and says, “Take them off then.”

            Junhui blinks at him and clears his throat. “Oh. I just…” He doesn’t have anything else to say, so he reaches for his waistband and tugs down his jeans and underwear carefully, allowing himself to come free. Though he’s looking down to hide it, Minghao sees that intense red flush on his cheeks.

            Minghao picks up the condom and holds it out to Junhui. “You’ve had sex ed, right?”

            Junhui just nods and takes the packet, tearing it open with those trembling hands. “Yeah,” he sighs out. Still, it takes him a second to get it on, but Minghao doesn’t mind at all. Junhui is too cute.

            Junhui finally leans back over him. “Okay.”

            “Go slow,” Minghao says.

            Junhui lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

            Minghao laughs softly. “I’m saying it for you, Jun. It’s going to feel—mmm…a lot _different_ than you might expect. If you’re expecting anything. I’m saying…savor it.”

            Junhui only manages to say, “Oh god.”

            Minghao laughs again and rubs Junhui’s arm reassuringly. “Start slow. And then we’ll see.”

            Junhui sits there for a second, looking at him. Then he shakes his head again. “Now I’m even more nervous.”

            Okay. Minghao is pretty sure this is still going to happen, but obviously they’re not going about it the right way. Maybe they need to change something. Maybe, even though Junhui is the top…

            He smiles again and sits up. Junhui sighs and leans back on his heels, looking at his knees. “Sorry.”

            “Don’t be,” Minghao says. “It’s okay to be nervous. This is a big thing.”

            Junhui chews his lip. “Am I ruining it?”

            Minghao shakes his head. “Not at all. The fact that you’re being this considerate is…making me really attracted to you.” Which is totally true, now that he says it out loud. Junhui is gorgeous, his face and his body, which is always a nice silver lining. But Junhui’s nerves are immensely endearing, and Minghao can tell that he wants everything to go smoothly and perfectly, and for it to not only be good for his first time but good for Minghao too. But it can’t possibly go perfectly—even if this was their twentieth time it wouldn’t be perfect. All Minghao wants is for Junhui to be kind and attentive to him, and to feel for him the same way. And the fact that Junhui is being overly kind and attentive makes him feel that much more.

            Junhui gives him those same big eyes, and Minghao says, “ _Really_ attracted.”

            Junhui just stares for a second. “Minghao.”

            “And I was thinking that I want to ride you,” Minghao says.

            Junhui’s eyes get impossibly wider, and even his chest reddens a little with his blush this time. “You…I…yes.”

            Minghao places a hand on Junhui’s chest, and when he pushes, Junhui lies back. He settles, staring up at Minghao, watching every movement he makes, and Minghao climbs over him. When Minghao takes Junhui in his hand, Junhui hisses in a quiet breath, and Minghao finds that he really likes watching Junhui watch between them—his gaze inquisitive and very nervous. Minghao lowers himself slowly, and he pays attention to how Junhui feels inside of him, but more to Junhui’s face, and the way his mouth falls open and his eyes squeeze shut and his head, once tilted up to look at them, falls back onto the mattress. Minghao sinks all the way down, sighing gently, and he rolls his hips slowly, placing his hands on Junhui’s chest.

            It’s new for him, too. He’s never done this before—he was the one on his back both of his other two times. There isn’t much of a physical difference here, but there’s a huge difference deeper inside him. Junhui is just there beneath him at this point, but something about his expression and the way Minghao can see his hands, unsure where to go, forming into little fists at his sides makes Minghao’s heart feel… _good_. Just, really good. He likes Junhui—he’s no longer afraid to admit that to himself now—and it’s not that he didn’t like his other boyfriend, but Junhui is just different. There’s a real sense of attraction between them, and Minghao knows Junhui feels it too but that he’s just not as good at acting on it because he’s so jittery. Minghao is so honored that Junhui likes him _that much_. That he can just walk into the room and immediately Junhui is flustered and excitable. All he’s ever wanted in a boyfriend is for someone to like him enough, and Junhui gives way more than that. Junhui might be imperfect and giggly and weird and a nervous wreck—a far cry from who Junhui was not too long ago, and certainly with other people—but Minghao wouldn’t trade it for the world if it means Junhui treats him with infallible kindness. He finds himself wanting to give Junhui everything he can tonight, even if it means he does everything. Junhui is inexperienced, so Minghao can work with that. Especially after all he’s done to try and change for Minghao, for the better, Junhui deserves a good first time.

            “Jun,” Minghao says, rolling his hips forward again.

            Junhui, eyes still shut, says, “Minghao.”

            “How are you?”

            Junhui pauses, or is unable to speak for a moment, then says, “You’re perfect.”

            Heat momentarily floods Minghao’s stomach, and he shudders. “Will you look at me, Jun?”

            Junhui takes a few deep breaths and says, “I can’t. You’re too gorgeous.”

            Minghao smiles. “All right. Put your hands on my thighs.”

            “Your thighs,” Junhui whispers back. He brings his hands up and finds Minghao’s legs, placing his hands there and squeezing.

            Minghao sits up and lets his eyes close too. He rolls his hips deeper, and beneath him, Junhui makes a small noise in his throat. Minghao looks at him to see his lower lip sucked in like he does, his eyes crinkled at the corners they’re closed so tight.

            “It’s okay to make noise,” he tells him.

            Junhui releases a sudden, long, shuddering sigh. “Thank god. Minghao, I— _ah…_ ”

            Minghao smiles again and pushes his hair back from his forehead, enjoying the way Junhui’s bangs are falling in his eyes. “Should I go faster?”

            Junhui’s brows go up in the middle as if even the idea of it is too much to bear. “If you—if you want.”

            “You tell me, Junhui. This is yours.”

            Junhui opens his eyes. Minghao is flawless above him, his hair falling perfectly soft around his face, his eyes lidded and sexy, his body lissome, silhouetted in yellow lamplight. And the way he _feels_ … Junhui has never had such physical pleasure in his life—Minghao was right about it being different than he expected. But he feels more than that, because he and Minghao have something between them that he can’t describe. Minghao said he was attracted to him, and Junhui couldn’t agree more. Since he met him, Junhui has been wildly attracted to Minghao, and now that they’re finally together like this…what was the word Minghao used before? _Passion_. The experience isn’t perfect because Junhui knows he’s awkward and new to this, but none of that matters because he _does_ feel passion for Minghao, and he hopes that Minghao feels it for him too, and he hopes that with time, they can be more passionate together in whatever textbook sense of the word there is. For now, the way Minghao is looking at him is more than enough passion. He wants to open his mouth and spill everything—to tell Minghao how gorgeous he is, how much he really likes him, how happy he is that Minghao has accepted him even after…

            Guilt creeps along his skin, and his hands tighten on Minghao’s thighs unconsciously. What has he done? All this time, he’s allowed Minghao to be treated—no, he _has treated Minghao_ like he was worth nothing. No more lying to himself, telling himself he was less than an accomplice in everything that was done to Minghao and it wasn’t his fault. He should have done something to stop it long ago—should never have been a part of it in the first place. Just because he didn’t say to Minghao’s face any of the things his friends might have said doesn’t mean he isn’t at fault. And Minghao is too smart to think there’s a difference—Minghao knows what Junhui has done. And yet, he’s still here, he’s still saying nice things to Junhui, still giving him chance after chance. Junhui doesn’t deserve any of this after what he’s done, but Minghao is in this relationship with him anyway, and doing this incredible favor for him.

            He can’t take back what he’s done, but he can make up for it. He can stop acting the way he did before. He can get out of the toxic friendships he’s in now and put his energy into new, positive, fulfilling friendships—with Minghao, and maybe with Soonyoung, and anyone else who is foolish enough to be kind to him after everything. He can _apologize._ He can fix things.

            He’ll start by fixing this.

            He says in a breath, “No.”

            Minghao tilts his head at him, but doesn’t question it. “All right.”

            Junhui takes all his strength to push up to sitting.

            Minghao loses his balance a little and catches Junhui’s shoulders to hold himself up. “Jun—what’s wrong?”

            “You are so beautiful,” Junhui says. He keeps leaning forward, allowing Minghao to straighten out his legs, lowering him gently onto his back.

            “Junhui.”

            Junhui pushes back into him just as slowly, because he wants this to be right and he wants it to last as long as he can. He watches Minghao’s face change, brows knitting together and perfect lips parting gently. He kisses those lips softly, pushing his hips slow and deep. Minghao’s hands slide from his shoulders to his back, wrapping around and pulling him close.

            It’s incredible when Minghao sighs his name. “ _Junhui_ …”

            “I’m sorry, Minghao,” Junhui breathes, shutting his eyes. “I’m sorry for being such an ass and letting my friends be that way to you and being someone I’m not to try and look cool and…I don’t want that anymore, Minghao. I don’t care if I’m not popular or if those guys won’t be my friends. I want to be with you. I want to make it up to you. I want to kiss you and hold your hand in front of them and make them know that I care about you instead of them. Instead of me.”

            Minghao presses his fingers into Junhui’s back, pushing his hips up into the pleasure of Junhui’s thrusts. “Junhui. Please…”

            But Junhui doesn’t hear him. “I want to see you in the morning and walk with you to class and eat lunch with you and listen to you talk and laugh. I want to lace my fingers with yours while we walk and watch you study in the library and brush that one strand of hair that _always_ falls in your face back where you meant it to be.”

            Junhui doesn’t notice when Minghao starts gasping, starts repeating his name over and over as he pushes deep.

            “And I want to make love to you whenever you want. I want to be unable to control myself when I see you but have to force myself to hold back until we can be alone together. I want to kiss you in the hallway and in the courtyard and on the field after every game in front of the whole crowd and the whole team and then alone in the dark and in this bed and in the shower and in the rain and everywhere. I want to kiss you every second, Minghao. You make me feel like things are finally right.”

            Junhui hardly feels the way Minghao’s legs tighten around his hips, hardly sees the way Minghao’s back bows off the bed and his lips form a pretty O, hardly hears the sounds of ecstasy coming from Minghao’s lungs.

            “So I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Minghao, that I treated you that way. I hate myself for it and I hope that some day you can forgive me.”

            “I do.” Minghao brushes his lips against Junhui’s. “I do.”

            Junhui finally snaps out of it, hips stuttering. “Wh-what?”

            Minghao kisses him. “I do forgive you, Junhui. I’ve always forgiven you. Now come, Jun. You just made me feel the most amazing I’ve ever felt in my whole life. Please feel that good. Come for me.”

            When Junhui does come then, it feels like all those cliché things they talk about in the movies—like sparks or electricity or fireworks or whatever. He finally understands what it’s like to be free of all the stupidity and the lying and the faking to feel something like this. And it’s all because of Minghao.

            He collapses, body and mind totally spent, breathing too hard and shivering. Minghao wraps one arm tightly around him and brushes his hair with the other hand.

            “It’s over, Junhui,” Minghao says. “I forgive you. It’s over.”

            Junhui barely makes any sound when he says, “I’m sorry.”

            Minghao kisses his temple. “Did you like it?”

            Junhui can’t even smile. He just shakes his head slowly. “I can only thank you. For letting me. For being my first. For not hating me.”

            “I don’t hate you at all,” Minghao replies. “Slowly, we approach the opposite, maybe.”

            Junhui closes his eyes tighter. “I…I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay. This is you.”

            Junhui isn’t surprised when he almost accidentally tells Minghao he loves him. But he doesn’t. There’s no way he can feel that yet, no matter how fast it seems to be coming on. It’s not as if he loved Minghao the first time he ever saw him back on the first day of school, pulling his brown suede jacket out of his locker because third period is always too cold for him. He doesn’t believe in that stuff. That would just be ridiculous.

            He pushes up on trembling arms and looks at Minghao’s completely perfect face, the apples of his cheeks a gorgeous pink, his full lips in the softest, most forgiving smile in the world. He kisses Minghao once. “Thank you. I think you saved me.”

            Minghao shakes his head and says, “You were always here.”


	44. JWW: The Only Way

DAY 71: CLAP

 

_10:25 am_

“Maybe we should ditch,” Mingyu says as they walk into the courtyard, headed for third period. He looks around and spots the door to the janitor’s closet. He smiles at Wonwoo and tilts his head at it. “I bet it’s open.”

            Wonwoo laughs at him and hits Mingyu with the back of his own hand that Wonwoo is holding. “You would want to.”

            Mingyu pouts and covers the spot where Wonwoo made him hit himself. “Jeez. Sorry I like you so much.”

            Wonwoo shakes his head at him. “Our last exam before the break is next week, Mingyu. We need to focus in class.”

            “Pretty sure my B-plus on the last test was all because of your drawings,” Mingyu says, putting up a finger. “So as long as I have you…” He trails off, following Wonwoo’s gaze.

            Jeonghan is at one of the tables, looking at a notebook. He flips through it almost absentmindedly, like he couldn’t really be reading anything much on the pages. As they watch, he brushes his hair back over one shoulder and then places his hand neatly in his lap, turning another page.

            “You go ahead, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says. “I think…”

            Mingyu looks at Jeonghan, then at Wonwoo. “Yeah, of course.” He leans down to give him a quick kiss. “See you soon, babe.”

            Wonwoo squeezes Mingyu’s hand and watches him go, then turns back to Jeonghan and walks over to him.

            He stands behind his roommate for a moment, not wanting to startle him or interrupt anything important. Glancing at the notebook, which looks like it’s for a science class, Wonwoo sees a page marked by a date from last year. Jeonghan flips through a few pages and then stops on one, tilting his head to read the margin. Looking closer, Wonwoo can see a note that must be from Seungcheol, with a little heart drawn at the end of the message.

            “Jeonghan.”

            Jeonghan doesn’t jump. He turns around and looks up at Wonwoo with bright eyes.

            Wonwoo smiles and sits down next to him. “Are you coming to class?” he asks.

            Jeonghan nods.

            Wonwoo nods too. “Okay. What are you looking at? Notes?”

            Jeonghan’s fingers, still holding the edge of a page, shake a little before he drops the paper. He closes the notebook and pulls it closer to himself.

            Wonwoo sighs gently. “It’s okay, Jeonghan. I know there isn’t much I can say, but I just want you to know that…things are going to work out. I know it’s hard and that those kinds of words often don’t mean anything. But Seungcheol loves you. And Jihoon loves you and I love you. You deserve that kind of love, yeah? You have to let it in. You have to keep other people from taking it away from you. It’s a hard fight—god knows it’s so hard. But just by being with him, you’re already winning. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

            Jeonghan looks at him for a long time.

            Wonwoo smiles again. “Of course. And—I know all I’m doing is churning out advice, but I really do care about you, Jeonghan. A lot more people do than you know, I think. Sometimes it’s hard to see it. I definitely know that much. And I can’t make it visible to you; you’ll have to find it for yourself—it’s the only way. But I _can_ help, and Jihoon, and Seungcheol most of all. A lot of us. The right ones of us. When you’re ready.”

            He stops and waits for a second, reading Jeonghan by his gaze. Normally, he’s good at it, but Jeonghan is a special case. He thinks he sees something in there, but he isn’t sure. At this point, he’ll hope.

            He leans forward and kisses Jeonghan’s forehead. “You’re doing well,” he says. He stands from the table and gives Jeonghan one last smile before going to third period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys,,,,,,  
> I'm so sorry this took so long. I'm in 4-week orientation for a new job (week 2 just ended) and the 44 hours a week + waking up at 4:50 am every day is kicking my ass. Not much of an excuse but that's what's going down for another two weeks, but I'll get this done before then, istg.  
> Thank you all for your patience and persistence <3


	45. WJH: Enthusiasm

_10:35 am_

“Do you honestly think a party at the student body president’s dorm is going to be good?” Youngmin says, and Dongho laughs.

            “True. Let’s just meet in my dorm. You in, Jun?”

            Junhui blinks at him, stepping out of the way of another student as they walk down the hall to third period. “Actually, I’ve been invited to Jisoo’s party, so I’m going there.”

            Youngmin gives him a weird look when they stop at Junhui’s locker. “By who?”

            As Junhui takes out his history book, Minghao turns the corner into the hallway. He smiles a little on the outside and a lot on the inside. “Someone important,” he says, putting his first and second period books in his locker.

            Youngmin frowns at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s up with you lately, anyway?”

            Junhui watches Minghao arrive at his locker and pull out his jacket. He grins, and inside of his chest he feels the same fireworks. “The truth is,” he says, “I’m going with my boyfriend.” He shuts his locker and starts walking away toward Minghao. He turns back for a moment to look at his teammates’ shocked faces and says, “And don’t be late to practice today or I’ll suggest to Coach that that hardworking freshman kid take one of your starting posts. All right?” He smiles at them and turns, swearing once under his breath, heart beating fast from the display of confidence he doesn’t quite have yet but is working on, and goes to Minghao.

            He comes up behind his boyfriend at his locker and puts his hand on his waist. Minghao turns to look at him with a smile on those perfect lips of his, and Junhui can’t help but kiss him right then.

            Minghao kisses him back and says, “Hey.”

            “Hey, darling,” Junhui says, and kisses him again, just a little firmer.

            Minghao hums against his lips before pulling away. “What is it, Jun?”

            Junhui shakes his head and says, “I just wanted to kiss you so badly.”

            Minghao looks around for a moment before Junhui touches his chin, turning his face back to him. Minghao does a tempting smile, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes up at Junhui. “Aren’t your friends watching?” he asks.

            Junhui smiles back. “My teammates can stare all they want. It feels so fucking good.”

            Minghao returns the sentiment with his smile and their lips meet again. Junhui slides his hand a little further down Minghao’s hip, nearly to his back pocket, and says against his mouth, “God, you have the most perfect lips and the most perfect body and the most perfect mind. I just want to pick you up and carry you to—”

            “All right, gentlemen,” Mr. Han says, walking by. “Let’s have that enthusiasm in class, shall we?”

            They both bow to him in apology. Minghao blushes, looking back at Junhui. “What were you saying?” he asks quietly.

            Junhui squeezes his waist and grabs Minghao’s books out of his locker. “Maybe you’ll find out later.”

            Minghao raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah?”

            Junhui giggles and kisses his cheek. “Let’s get to class. I’m going to ask for a seating rearrangement for second term.”

            “I wonder what he’ll say after that,” Minghao says, turning with him to go toward their classroom.

            “Cute!” Soonyoung calls to them, coming from the other end of the hallway, walking quickly with his finally freed foot but struggling to manage a huge lime green poster that says REACTION POWER OF PURE SODIUM in cartoonish letters across the top.

            Minghao shakes his head at him, but before he can say anything, Junhui says, “Soonyoung! You’re presenting today?”

            Soonyoung grins at him and meets up with them at the door. “First in the class, and Mrs. Kang is letting me do a demonstration.”

            “Just don’t come in with an eye patch tomorrow,” Minghao says, and they go into class together.


	46. BSK: Destined

_10:35 am_

“Cute,” Seokmin says, watching Junhui go boldly over to kiss Minghao across the hall.

            Seungkwan scrunches up his face. “Serious PDA though.”

            Seokmin sighs and watches the couple, glad to see they’ve finally stopped caring about anyone seeing them. “Well, it’s better than anything you’ve managed.”

            Seungkwan goes stiff and frowns at him. “Yah. Honestly, you—”

            “Speak of the devil,” Seokmin says and grins behind Seungkwan.

            Seungkwan turns around and is immediately engulfed in a hug. “Ah—Hansol—” He squishes against Hansol’s chest.

            Hansol laughs and lets him go. “Sorry. Too much?”

            Seungkwan mumbles something, but even that is cut off when Seokmin says, “See, this is exactly what I mean. That’s the best you can do.”

            Hansol grins, raising his eyebrows. “Did I miss something?”

            “China line kissed in the hall and Seungkwan complained about PDA,” Seokmin informs him.

            Hansol nods like he gets it. “Ah. We are pretty weak, I’ll admit.”

            Seungkwan is about to retort with something, but then he thinks about what Hansol said and…does that mean Hansol wants more too? He ends up forgetting to say anything at all.

            “This is where we kiss, Kwannie,” Hansol says in an exaggerated conspiratorial whisper.

            Seungkwan blinks up at Hansol and Seokmin looking at him. Stupidly, he says, “No PDA.”

            “Ah, but Seokmin wants to see it up close.”

            “That makes me sound pervy,” Seokmin says.

            “Yeah,” Seungkwan says. “Let’s just—”

            Hansol kisses his cheek faster than he can finish his sentence.

            Seungkwan goes red, bringing a hand up to it. “Yah…”

            Seokmin heaves a sigh. “Maybe I am pervy but one day I’ll see you two actually kiss again.”

            Seungkwan almost says _The first one wasn’t good enough?_ But no, it wasn’t. And the ones Seokmin hasn’t seen have been…satisfactory? Is that insulting to Hansol? They weren’t bad, they just weren’t… He shakes his head at himself, because either he’ll have to just stop thinking about it and get over it, or get up the nerve to do something.

            Hansol puts an arm around him and leans his head on top of Seungkwan’s. “Sorry, Kwannie. We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

            Seungkwan realizes he was frowning and shook his head and is standing awkwardly holding his books. He looks up at Hansol again, making his eyes bigger. “No—you didn’t. It’s—I’m just in my head is all.”

            Hansol looks at him, tilting his head curiously.

            At the end of the hallway, Seungkwan sees Seungcheol and Jihoon walking in. “Ah…” He looks at Seokmin and Hansol. “Come on, let’s go to class.”

            “In a hurry?” Seokmin teases.

            Seungkwan glances at the two older boys again. “No it’s—I just…” Seokmin and Hansol look where he’s looking. Seungkwan says, “If Jeonghan comes in…”

            Seokmin smiles and turns back. “Seungkwan is a romantic deep down.”

            Hansol nods. “I’m well aware. He’s not good at hiding it.”

            Seungkwan huffs and looks at the floor. “I want them to get back together, okay? They’re like…like a real adult couple. I don’t know. It’s weird for me to say that.” He shrugs. Seungcheol and Jeonghan have _always_ been together, since Seungkwan came to the Academy. They’ve always seemed on a higher level to Seungkwan, like they weren’t just a high school couple but a _real_ couple who were destined to be together forever no matter what. It’s definitely melodramatic for him to think that way, but Seungkwan knows he’s a melodramatic guy. And, as far as their love and perseverance goes, Seungcheol and Jeonghan really do make him think of his parents.

            Hansol shakes his head. “It’s not weird. I think so, too. Adult couple, adult problems.”

            “This is the first time they haven’t gotten back together within a day or two,” Seokmin says, his voice quieter. “Two weeks? It makes me uneasy. Now that you mention it, I don’t want them to be over either.”

            “Kwannie’s right—let’s go sit down,” Hansol says.

            They go into class and take their seats.

            “Do either of you know the story with Jihoon?” Hansol asks, glancing at the doorway.

            Seokmin and Seungkwan both shake their heads. “Maybe it’s a senior thing,” Seungkwan offers.

            “They were friends,” Jisoo says, turning around to face them.

            They all lean in to listen.

            “Jihoon and Jeonghan,” Jisoo says. He frowns a little and says, “I don’t know much. I think they were really close until Jeonghan changed. He used to be different, if you get it.”

            Seokmin nods. “I think I’ve heard a few people say he used to be, well…”

            “Nicer,” Jisoo concedes with a tilt of his head. “That’s the truth. Something…went wrong.”

            “Jeez,” Seungkwan whispers.

            “But,” Jisoo says, “I think if they can make it through _this_ … That really proves something.”

            They all look up when Seungcheol and Jihoon walk in. The classroom is too quiet compared to usual. Jisoo gives them a shrug and they all lean back in their seats, silent.


	47. CSC: Effect

_10:35 am_

“Eventually,” Jihoon says.

            Seungcheol nods, looking at the empty hallway outside of class. Empty of Jeonghan, anyway. He must be running late. The silence from him is really lasting, and Seungcheol has to remind himself every day that they’re waiting for him, they’re giving him the chance to be comfortable enough to really sit down and talk about what’s going on. He has to tell himself to give Jeonghan his space, to not push into it and try to get something out of Jeonghan that he isn’t yet ready to give. He has to tell himself not to lose hope in Jeonghan—that it’s just a process that’s going to take however long it takes, and that he can’t give up or else Jeonghan will never get better.

            He’s thankful to have people to talk to. Jackson understands, and even some of the guys on the team listen to him go on about it sometimes, even if they might be annoyed by it, not that he cares. But mostly, he’s thankful for Jihoon. Jihoon understands more than anyone, and Jihoon feels the same way he does. They’re both going day by day, giving Jeonghan all the time that he wants to take, even if it feels like minutes turn to hours and days into years. If that’s what Jeonghan needs, that’s what Jeonghan will have.

            Besides, he has no room to complain. Jeonghan is the one really suffering here. Seungcheol isn’t sure if Jeonghan really has anyone to talk to, if his roommate is treating him well, if anyone else even cares about him at all. It’s been a long time that people have treated Jeonghan badly. Though it might be a backwards way to get there, Seungcheol at least hopes that people are noticing more of Jeonghan’s feelings now—not that he can count on high schoolers to understand anything deeper than their own skin. But Jihoon does, and he does, and Jackson does, and so maybe at least a few other people do too. Anything is a start.

            Seungcheol just hopes that Jeonghan is doing okay.

            “Yeah,” he says, and they walk into class. Jihoon goes past him to his seat at the back of the room, and Seungcheol sits down in his desk, glances at Jeonghan’s empty seat next to him, leans back, and sighs.

            “He’ll come around.”

            Seungcheol blinks over at Jisoo, turned around in his seat to look at him.

            Jisoo smiles gently and says, “He will.”

            Next to him, Chan leans back in his seat far enough to look at Seungcheol too. “Yeah, hyung. It’ll be okay.”

            Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say for a second. Are they…talking about Jeonghan? Other than his own friends, this is the first time anyone has said anything to him about Jeonghan, especially since this whole mess started back in the gym. It makes Seungcheol’s chest ache to know that Jisoo and Chan are aware of it, and that they care, even just a little. If this is the few other people that Seungcheol was just hoping for, then he couldn’t be more grateful.

            “I…thank you,” he says.

            The two smile at him and turn back around in their seats.

            Seungcheol faces forward again. He’s about to reach down to his backpack to pull out his notebook when someone else says behind him, “If there’s anyone he thinks is worth trying for, it’s you, Seungcheol.”

            Seungcheol twists in his seat, his hand gripping the back of his chair, to stare at Jeon Wonwoo. All that comes out of his mouth is, “Oh.”

            “Really,” Mingyu says, agreeing with Wonwoo. “He’s, like, your person. And you’re his.”

            Seungcheol looks between the two of them. He’s never much spoken to Jeonghan’s roommate or his new boyfriend, but apparently they can see what’s happening too. Of course—Wonwoo _would_ know at least something about Jeonghan. Seungcheol wants to ask if they’re friends, if Jeonghan is doing okay, if he’s said anything to Wonwoo when they were in their dorm together. But none of those questions make it past his thoughts.

            Wonwoo smiles like he knows what Seungcheol is thinking and says, “He just needs a little bit more time.”

            Seungcheol’s mouth opens for a moment. “You…I…” He shakes his head.

            Wonwoo and Mingyu both give him a smile, and begin talking to each other instead.

            Seungcheol turns slowly back around. He sinks into his chair a little, hands going limp in his lap. He looks over at Jeonghan’s empty desk again. When he glances up from there, Hansol and Seungkwan are both looking at him. They don’t say anything, but Hansol nods at Jeonghan’s desk a little, and they both offer some sort of kind face. Next to Seungkwan, Seokmin gives Seungcheol a dimmer version of his usual smile.

            Inside Seungcheol, something starts buzzing. What is this?

            Soonyoung’s giant green poster catches Seungcheol’s eye as he walks in next to Minghao and Junhui. Junhui says something and they pause just inside the doorway for a second, and then behind them Seungcheol hears the most timid, “Excuse me.”

            Other than videos of them on his phone, never a match for the real thing, it’s the first time he’s heard his voice in almost two weeks.

            The three friends move to let Jeonghan in, and if Seungcheol isn’t mistaken, Soonyoung bows a little bit to him. And they also all glance over at Seungcheol.

            Seungcheol wants to look back at Jihoon to see if he’s noticing all of this too, but he can’t take his eyes off Jeonghan, who comes to sit next to him, setting his backpack down on the floor and looking at his desk.

            As Soonyoung and Minghao take their seats on the other side of the room, and as Junhui walks between Seungcheol and Jeonghan, placing a hand on Seungcheol’s desk for such a short moment he almost doesn’t notice, Seungcheol realizes that he must have been a fool to think people weren’t paying attention. He and Jeonghan have been a couple since they were freshman. All the people who came into the school that year with them knew about it, and since Seungcheol is popular and Jeonghan is at least well known, everyone else who came here in the years after learned about them too. The whole school must know by now what’s going on. What Seungcheol never expected is that some of them actually _care_. About him, and, it seems, particularly about Jeonghan.

            Maybe a lot more people are on their side than he thought. Maybe he and Jeonghan have been focusing too hard on the bad for too long, defending themselves so much that they forgot to look for the good. That, or maybe Jeonghan has more of an effect on people than Seungcheol knows. He certainly has an effect on him.

            Seungcheol’s heart swells, and he can’t stop looking at Jeonghan’s profile next to him.

            And then: “Seungcheol?” Jeonghan says.

            Seungcheol nearly begins to cry with the way Jeonghan looks over at him. He keeps himself together. “Yes, Hannie?”

            Jeonghan draws in a steady breath and says, “Do you want to go to the New Year’s party with me?”

            Jisoo’s eyes are almost as wide as Seungcheol’s when Seungcheol looks at him to check, and Jisoo nods really fast. Seungcheol bites his tongue and looks at Jeonghan again. He wants to reach out, brush his fingers along Jeonghan’s cheek, or hold Jeonghan’s hand again after so long, but he doesn’t. He says, “Of course.”

            Jeonghan looks at him for a while longer, then looks at the front of the room when Mr. Han starts writing on the board.

            Seungcheol takes one moment to turn and look at Jihoon. His cheeks are rosy, his eyes bright staring back at him, and Seungcheol understands then that Jeonghan really does have that much of an effect on people, even if he says nothing to them.

            They look at each other saying _I have absolutely no idea_ , and then class begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really getting down to the wire though, aren't we? 5 more to go, but my favorite chapter of the whole book is within those 5 so...anticipate.


	48. LC: To The Party

NEW YEAR'S EVE: CAMPFIRE

 

_11:00 pm_

Chan clears his throat before knocking on the door to Jisoo’s dorm. He puts his hands behind his back and gets ready to smile.

            The door opens, and it isn’t Jisoo, but his friend greets him with an equal smile. “Lee Chan, you made it!”

            Chan bows. “Hi, hyung. How are you?”

            “How many times, Chan, with the bowing?” comes a call from inside the dorm. Chan leans to see Jisoo walking up from a bunch of people, grinning at him. “Junmyeon, Minseok is looking for you. Something about setting up a table and some Solo cups,” he says, smiling right at Chan.

            Chan’s eyes widen a little, but he bows again when Junmyeon gives him a nod and welcomes him to the party. “Thanks, hyung!” Chan says to him, and looks back at Jisoo.

            “You’re probably not interested in those kinds of games, huh?” Jisoo says, chuckling.

            Chan smiles awkwardly and shakes his head. “Ah…not really.”

            “Good,” Jisoo says with a nod. “Now come inside, Chan. We have some business to attend to.”

            Chan barely gets out a quick “Oh?” before he’s following Jisoo inside and the door closes behind him. SHINee’s _View_ is playing from somewhere and the lights are dimmed, but Jisoo hosts more of a sophisticated party, which Chan is thankful for—it’s still loud, and there’s still guys everywhere with some kind of drink in their hands (and he doesn’t doubt there’s alcohol somewhere for those Solo cups, but he also wouldn’t be surprised if at least half the guys just had cola), but there isn’t a bunch of rattling bass and tacky colored lights and chances for people to vomit on the floor. Chan lets out a sigh of relief.

            Jisoo turns to look at him and smiles again. “Your style?” he asks.

            Chan laughs. “Well, I’ve never been to a party, but I’ve seen movies and they made me nervous. This doesn’t. As much.”

            “You could sit on the floor all night here and nobody would question it, Chan. And the brownies are clean.” Chan turns a little red at that. Jisoo grins and says, “Actually, I didn’t make any brownies. There’s cookies, though. But as far as advice—I’d stay on my half of the dorm if you want to, uh…breathe easy.”

            Chan takes a quick glance towards Jisoo’s roommate, Johnny’s side of the dorm, the door to his room closed though the light is on inside. He nods and says, “Got it.”

            “Drink?” Jisoo asks, leading him through some people with polite _Excuse me_ ’s toward the kitchen. “We’ve got cola and Sprite and other soda and of course water. And just because you’re my favorite, I’ll even make you coffee if you want.”

            Chan shakes his head fast and says, “No, that’s okay. Just water. Do you have ice?”

            “Plenty,” Jisoo says. He finds Chan a cup and opens a cooler with a bunch of two-liter sodas and ice, scooping some out. “So, Chan. What are we going to do after football season is over?” He gets Chan’s water and hands it to him, and Chan thanks him.

            “I don’t know, hyung,” Chan says, his eyes getting sadder. “We won’t be announcing together anymore.”

            Jisoo smiles and leans back against his countertop, crossing his ankles. “Well, we’ve got to figure something out. I mean, I’ve got a ton of clubs and I could seriously use some help managing them.”

            Chan’s mouth opens as the song playing around them changes to _Toy_. “But—but I’m just a freshman.”

            Jisoo makes a face. “Sorry, but you’ll need a better excuse than that to get away from me.” Chan blushes and laughs. “Plus, I need a treasurer. And if you’re good with a camera, the club photos will be a thing when we get back from break.”

            “My mom got me a camera last summer!” Chan says, moving his arms out of excitement and almost spilling his water.

            Jisoo chuckles again at him. “Do you think you could help me out with the group photos?”

            “Definitely!” Chan exclaims, nodding. He takes a deep breath and calms down. “Sorry. I’m excited.”

            Jisoo shakes his head. “I’m glad you are, Chan. I’m going to need the help from a smart guy like you. Oh—” He snaps his fingers. “One more thing. If you can handle some note taking and have some good ideas, I’d love to see you at an officer meeting.”

            Chan’s eyes widen again. He thinks for a second and then says, “Well…I self-taught shorthand so if you—”

            “No way. That’s absolutely perfect,” Jisoo says. “You’re hired.”

            Chan beams.

            “I’ll need someone to take over for me after I’m gone at the end of this year. Maybe you’ll be my protégé.” Jisoo waves Chan after him again, walking out of the kitchen. “Come on, let’s let you sit down.”

            Chan nearly swoons, and he follows Jisoo out to the common.

            They reach the couches—three of them spread out in a haphazard square with the TV as the fourth side. “We borrowed two from the adjacent dorms,” Jisoo says. “Plus another small one that we put over behind the dining table. It took us half an hour to get them all in here.”

            Chan laughs, looking at them. Soonyoung from his third period sits on one of the couches, swaying back and forth as he watches the TV. The MBC New Year’s show is streaming on a repeat, and Zion.T is on stage performing _Snow._ “Wah,” Soonyoung says, closing his eyes. “This is such a pretty song.”

            “I heard your midterm presentation was a smash hit,” Jisoo says, going to him.

            Soonyoung opens his eyes and grins up at him. “My teacher said no points off for breaking the beakers as long as I cleaned them up without hurting myself.”

            “You here alone?” Jisoo asks.

            Soonyoung looks at Chan, and Chan bows to him. “My friends are fashionably late. High fashion, evidently,” Soonyoung says, and nods his head in greeting to Chan.

            Jisoo laughs and says, “I’ve been thinking, Soonyoung—we should make chemistry club a real thing.”

            Soonyoung’s eyes widen, his lips making their little O, and he stops swaying to look at Jisoo. “ _Really?_ ”

            “Chemistry?” Chan says. “Science is my favorite subject. I’ll join the club if you need people.” He looks with hopeful eyes between Soonyoung and Jisoo.

            Jisoo smiles and puts a hand out toward Chan. “There you have it. Soonyoung, Lee Chan, the newest genius here.”

            Chan blushes deeply.

            Soonyoung looks at him again, squinting his eyes and tilting his head. “Lee Chan? I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

            “I sit next to you in that class you never go to, hyung,” Chan says, and then immediately shuts his mouth. “That was rude—I’m sorry.” He bows.

            “Yeesh, I was just joking,” Soonyoung says, smiling at Jisoo, who nods like Chan is in Soonyoung’s hands and turns to go. Soonyoung laughs and pats the couch next to him. “Sit with me, Chan. Tell me your favorite chemical reaction.”

            Chan, face pink, bows a bit again before going to sit next to him, putting his hands on his knees and facing Soonyoung at forty-five. “Well…did you know that if you put gummy bears in potassium chlorate they continuously explode sort of like—”

            “Fireworks,” Soonyoung finishes for him. “Yes! My friends Jisung and Jaemin—you’ll meet them when we go to club, you’re gonna love them—they did an experiment on the different colors and their reaction rates.” He tucks his legs up on the couch and turns to face Chan straight on, speaking rapidly at him and flailing his hands in excitement. Chan grins and listens to every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I"m gonna be honest with you guys...I didn't like the way I had the last chapter of this and decided to rework it, and it's still not done. I have one more week of Hella Work, but I'll try to post it by next weekend even if I'm not totally satisfied. I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting on it! Especially when I promised it was all complete. Luckily, your main plot resolutions will have been complete by then anyway, and will only need a brief closing. Sorry again, but please look forward to it!


	49. XMH: Why Wouldn't I Be?

_11:05 pm_

Minghao and Junhui walk hand-in-hand down the hallway to get to Jisoo’s corner dorm. They get close to the door and Junhui starts humming, then sings, “ _All you need is me, I’m your toy_ ,” and stops in the hallway, letting go of Minghao’s hand to do a weird robot dance.

            Minghao laughs. “What are you doing?”

            Junhui stands straight again and giggles. “The dance. I think.”

            Minghao shakes his head at him. “I haven’t seen it.”

            “It just ended. You’d like the song, I think,” Junhui says, taking Minghao’s hand again. “It’s musical and slow-ish. I’m pretty sure they dab in the dance, too.”

            “Good description. You can show me later,” Minghao says, smiling, leading Junhui up to the door.

            As he’s about to knock, they hear, “Oh! _Fancy_ ,” from down the other hallway.

            They look over and Mingyu and Wonwoo are walking up, Mingyu doing some weird thing with his shoulders and singing along to the new song that’s apparently playing in the party while Wonwoo smiles, gazing up at him.

            Junhui clicks his tongue and leans toward Minghao, watching the couple. “Is that how I look at you? Because I know it’s not how you look at me when I do weird things.”

            Minghao laughs, and Mingyu seems to notice there are people there. He stops immediately and bows to them. “Sorry,” he says awkwardly, and the two of them walk up to the others, standing at the door together. “I like Penomeco,” Mingyu says, looking sideways.

            “Isn’t he a rapper?” Junhui asks, and Wonwoo knocks on the door, greeting Minghao.

            Mingyu nods. “But he sings in _L.I.E_ too.”

            Junhui asks, “Can you rap?”

            Mingyu laughs, tucking his shoulders up. “Uhh…”

            The door opens and they’re greeted by Seokmin, who puts a hand on his hip, giving one of his thousand-watt smiles. “The party just got four times handsomer.”

            Mingyu, Wonwoo, Minghao, and Junhui all look at each other and stifle laughter.

            Seokmin just grins at them. “Take it as a compliment, guys.”

            “But you’ve already upgraded it yourself, Seokmin,” Mingyu says. “How much higher can it get?”

            Seokmin brings a hand to his chest, touched. “ _Kim Mingyu_ ,” he says.

            Wonwoo says, “I know right? I told him he’s a heartbreaker.”

            Seokmin laughs. “Besides,” he says, “the party reaches its final form once our newly proclaimed king and queen arrive.”

            Minghao smacks Junhui’s stomach with the back of his hand, and Junhui holds it. “See, I told you people were calling them that.”

            Junhui makes wide eyes at him. “I’d never heard it so I just didn’t want to say anything that wasn’t true!”

            Minghao sighs. “You try too hard these days, darling.”

            Mingyu gasps. “ _Darling_. That’s a good one, Wonwoo. I should have used that.”

            “Are they doing better?” Minghao asks, leaning across their group to look at Wonwoo. “Jeonghan and Seungcheol?”

            Wonwoo hums gently. “Better. Not perfect. The thing that has to give hasn’t given yet.”

            The four of the others hum back, nodding. It’s become common understanding to those that care about the couple that nobody but Jeonghan really knows the very base of the problem—even Seungcheol and Jihoon—and Jeonghan hasn’t been ready to open up with it yet. At this point, most of them are waiting—hoping, honestly—for them to get back together.

            “Eventually,” Junhui says. “Some things take…a lot of time.”

            Minghao squeezes his hand; Mingyu and Wonwoo nod at him in agreement

            “It’s like the whole school is different without them, isn’t it,” Seokmin says. “Maybe just ‘kings’ would be better. Are you guys gonna come inside or what?”

            They laugh again, and Mingyu and Wonwoo go inside first, heading for the kitchen, then Minghao leads Junhui in. A lot of people look over at them as they enter, but not one time does Junhui falter or even turn his face away. He smiles walking in with Minghao, holding his hand confidently, and Minghao thinks that they’re finally, completely there. They’re closer than ever, especially after that night they shared in Minghao’s dormroom. Junhui is finally able to shrug off what people say or think—about him or Minghao or the fact that they’re together. Though it is less now—the snide comments and rumors and talk about Minghao being that transfer kid. It disturbs Minghao how quickly things like that can change, how easily he was accepted now that Junhui has accepted him, but at this point it doesn’t affect him anymore. He stopped caring a while ago, and now that Junhui has changed too, he thinks he can stop hearing it altogether.

            “You good?” he asks Junhui.

            Junhui looks curiously over at him. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

            Minghao smiles and they make their way to the couches.

            “Guys!” Soonyoung says, calling them over from one of the seats. He points to an open space on the adjacent couch and says, “Hansol and Seungkwan just got up from there to get a cookie or something, so. This is Lee Chan.” He motions to the freshman.

            Junhui and Minghao sit together. “Everyone knows Chan, Soonyoung,” Minghao says, and he greets Chan hello as Soonyoung waves him off.

            Chan bows to them with a cute smile. “Hi, hyungs.”

            “Chan is joining chemistry club,” Soonyoung says. “And before you say anything, Hao, _yes_ it’s a real thing now.”

            Junhui leans in a little, raising his eyebrows high. “Chemistry? Can anyone join?”

            Soonyoung brightens. “Sure!”

            “Good, because Minghao has been wanting a spot forever.”

            Minghao blinks, and he leans back into the couch and crosses his legs, listening to his two best friends laugh with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also please spare me for all my song references. Take a listen, though--they're all really good and they give an idea of what Jisoo's party atmosphere is like


	50. BSK: Set Point

_11:20 pm_

“But the set point theory is _wrong_ ,” Seungkwan says.

            The ice in his Sprite cup rattles when he moves his hands to speak, and one of Hansol’s favorite ZICO songs is on, and around them and behind them on the couch they’re standing behind, people they know and don’t know are all talking at once, and some young new boy group is performing on the TV, but the look on Hansol’s face, if only Seungkwan would notice, says that he can’t hear a single thing besides the words Seungkwan is saying to him.

            “And it always seemed ridiculous from the start,” Seungkwan says, waving his hands around and frowning at the space between him and Hansol. “That people are predisposed with a genetic level of happiness that is meant to be at one spot, and that other events can make it go up or down but only temporarily. How ludicrous, right? Anyway, that was the whole point of the study we read. Happiness _can_ change. You _can_ be greatly affected by some tragedy or some big shift, and it can lower happiness. But you can also come back from that, and maybe even raise your happiness to even _higher_ than it was before that bad thing ever happened. There is no set point that your happiness must always return to. In the end, you can be a happier person always.” He pauses, sips his drink, then says, “Or a sadder one. If we want to be morose about it.”

            Hansol just stands there, leaning casually against the couch back, smiling this weird gentle smile and looking right into his eyes.

            Seungkwan’s frown becomes a little less frustrated by academics and a little more confused, and maybe slightly suspicious. It’s safe to say he’s done most of the talking tonight—which is somewhat strange, because usually Hansol talks plenty to him. But Seokmin has been off talking to one of his theatre friends for a bit, leaving Seungkwan to his own devices, and maybe Seungkwan is just nervous like he always is and it’s making him talk a lot because other people are talking and he feels like he has to say things because they’re at a party, and so he’s been blabbering on about psychology for ten minutes while Hansol watches him drink soda and eat two cookies and pour words everywhere. Hansol is probably amused by this, is probably enjoying watching Seungkwan be a nervous wreck. Maybe that explains that smile on his face right now. Maybe it’s more of a smirk.

            “What?” Seungkwan says.

            Hansol shrugs and shakes his head, smiling. “You know a lot,” he says with some weird quality to his voice that Seungkwan would probably be foolish to call dreamy.

            Seungkwan shifts on his feet. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

            Hansol draws in a long, deep breath, and sighs it out, eyes closed. The smile remains, but when he opens his eyes again, they look a little different. Brighter. He says, “Seungkwan, follow me.”

            Seungkwan looks more confused, but before he can say anything Hansol suddenly grabs his hand and starts pulling him around the clumps of people across the dorm. He stumbles along behind him. “Hansol, what is it? Let go of me.”

            “Nope.” Hansol keeps pulling him.

            Seungkwan blinks, all of his focus on trying not to spill his drink going solely to the back of Hansol’s head in front of him. Is that the first time Hansol has ever told him no for something? Why is that so surprising? Has he gotten too used to Hansol fulfilling his every small request? What’s different this time?

            “Where are we going?” he asks.

            Hansol looks at him and smiles.

            Seungkwan thinks he understands completely. In shock, his eyes go wide and then, because he’s nervous and his attitude makes him, he frowns again. “I know what you’re doing, Hansol. We’re at a party. This—” For some reason, as they pass a shelf as they turn into a hallway, he puts down his drink. “This is cliché a-and typical.”

            Boy does that stutter give him away. What is he even saying, anyway? Has he not been internally asking for this? Not _this_ necessarily but…something.

            Hansol grins and squeezes his hand, pulling him down the hallway and through a door. When Hansol shuts it and twists the lock, Seungkwan has a moment to realize just how hard his heart is beating. He looks around for half a second before his eyes widen. “God, Hansol, this is Jisoo’s room!”

            Hansol hums. “Would you prefer Johnny’s? I think there are some people in there and definitely some weed but if that’s your thing then—”

            “Shut up, you loser,” Seungkwan says. He brings his hands to his hair and closes his eyes. “What am I doing…”

            Hansol takes a step closer to him. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

            Seungkwan looks at Hansol’s concerned expression, his perpetually handsome face. Is he really about to go through with this? He shakes his head. “I—I don’t know if I’m ready, Hansol.”

            Hansol just looks at him for a moment, then sighs softly. “Kwannie…it’s been months…”

            Seungkwan looks at the floor. He lifts his hands to his sides, then lets them fall back to his thighs with a pat. “I know, Hansol, I just…we’re just freshmen, I…I’m not ready for sex yet.”

            Hansol’s eyes widen immediately. “What?” He steps forward and takes Seungkwan’s arms. “Seungkwan—what—no.” He grins, laughing a little. “That’s not—wow, I did make it seem that way, didn’t I?”

            Seungkwan just looks at him, shaking his head slightly. “What?”

            Hansol smiles big and says, “I’m not asking to have sex. I mean, unless you wanted to. I just wanted to get you alone because I was hoping you might finally admit how much you want to make out with me and maybe actually say you like me finally too.”

            Seungkwan can only look at him for a second. First of all, what the _hell_. Hansol really didn’t get how this looked, pulling him into a room alone during a party and locking the door? Second of all, did Hansol just say that he _knew_? He knew this whole time that Seungkwan has been wanting that?

            Seungkwan slaps Hansol’s chest hard. “Hansol!”

            Hansol puts a hand to it. “Ow!”

            “What’s wrong with you!”

            Hansol’s eyes get even bigger. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

            “ _You did_.” Seungkwan huffs and shakes his head at him. “I thought you were being all pervy and weird like literally every high school movie.” He clicks his tongue and sighs again.

            Hansol chuckles. “Honestly, I don’t even know if I’m ready for that. I mean, I would do it if you really wanted to because I like you so much, but you’re right—we’re just freshmen. Sort of. We’re young. But I would though.”

            Seungkwan makes a face at him, then looks at the carpet floor. “You know, I didn’t even think you were gay at first. Even now you don’t seem it.”

            Hansol’s face becomes very confused. “This is only just coming up now?”

            Seungkwan shrugs, looking sideways.

            Hansol touches his chin, making him look back at him. “I don’t even know what I am, Seungkwan. I just like you, so much. Like, _way_ too much. I just really want you to feel the same way. I know I’m weird and that sometimes I accidentally make you uncomfortable but all I want is for you to be happy, and I want to be someone who can make you happy, and—”

            “Just stop,” Seungkwan says, wanting to bring his hands up to cover his ears like a child. Hansol has always been too perfectly kind, too perfectly considerate, too _perfect_. Seungkwan likes him too much, too. He’s not been able to admit it yet, hasn’t been able to get over that last bit of fear he has that something will go wrong. How could it? Hansol is perfect enough that even if something didn’t go right, he would still do everything in his power to fix it or at least make it better. Besides—isn’t that how relationships are supposed to work anyway?

            Seungkwan really needs to just get over it. He needs to just let himself be with Hansol.

            He shakes his head and says, “You’re so… Why can’t I get over you?”

            Hansol grins again, squeezing Seungkwan’s arms gently. “I feel the same way, Kwannie. Does that mean you like me too?”

            Seungkwan shakes Hansol off of him. “Yes, you idiot, yes. And kiss me like you mean it this time.”

            Hansol pulls Seungkwan against his body in one quick motion. Seungkwan yelps and brings his arms up reflexively; they rest bent against Hansol’s chest as Hansol kisses him hard. Seungkwan makes a surprised noise against his mouth and closes his eyes, letting their lips lock together in a way they haven’t before. Hansol pulls at his lower back, pressing their bodies closer together, and Seungkwan feels Hansol making his stupid smile against his lips and is about to ask why when he realizes it’s because he opened his mouth without thinking about it. All that time of hoping there would be more, of trying to find a moment and the courage to say something, and here he is, doing it without any words or thought at all. And then Hansol’s tongue is touching his and it feels weird at first but then it feels kind of really nice, and Hansol tastes like cola and smells like orange shampoo and feels like the way a down comforter feels when you wrap it all around you on a cold day and Seungkwan hardly even realizes he’s squeezing his hands into Hansol’s sweatshirt really tight because he’s too focused on Hansol’s hands squeezing his waist and he can’t believe he ever waited this long—no, _took_ this long to have any courage at all. They could have been doing this for weeks.

            By accident, he whispers, “Stupid.”

            Hansol leans back a little and smiles halfway at him. “Sorry.”

            Seungkwan shakes his head. “Not you. Me. Literally always me.”

            Hansol starts to protest to that, but Seungkwan just wraps his arms around his neck and kisses him again. It’s even deeper this time, and Hansol just _has_ to go and lift him off the ground a few centimeters like that, and Seungkwan thinks that from the outside they probably look so amateur and ugly but with his eyes closed like this he imagines that Hansol is still so incredibly handsome and that they look really good together, a kiss worthy of at least an indie film at Sundance or something. When Hansol puts him down, his heart is doing a steady drumbeat and he tries hard to think of something good to say when he breaks the kiss again.

            But Hansol shakes his head and says, “Wait. Just a little more,” and gives him a bunch of really soft kisses. They make Seungkwan hope that he will actually be ready soon, maybe in another month or two, or at the end of this year in spring when they’re both seventeen. For now, this is all he’s wanted for what feels like such a long time.

            Finally Hansol stops, pulling away with a blissed look on his face. He says in an equally blissed voice, “Oh my god. You’re amazing.”

            Seungkwan thinks, _You too,_ but he can’t say it. He can’t get any words out while Hansol stands there, holding him close, hands firmly on his hips.

            “I’ve wanted that for so long,” Hansol says. “Longer than this year has been.”

            Seungkwan just says, “I…”

            Hansol smiles. “I know. It’s okay. I’m glad we’re here now.”

            Hansol wraps his arms around him then, pulling him into a hug. For a moment, Seungkwan blinks, wondering how he finally made it here, why he couldn’t just let this happen before. And then he tells himself it’s finally time to stop thinking about it. He closes his eyes and lets himself rest against Hansol’s chest.

            “Do you want to go back out?” Hansol asks when they pull apart.

            Seungkwan shakes his head. “Let’s stay in here. It’s not so loud.”

            Hansol chuckles and says, “You just want to be alone with me.”

            Seungkwan sighs, and doesn’t respond to that yes or no, and walks over to Jisoo’s bed—full size instead of twin, another perk of being student body president. He thinks for a second that maybe he shouldn’t get on it, but then he thinks that it would have been a lot worse if they’d done what Seungkwan thought Hansol pulled him in here for on it, so this’ll be okay. He lies back on one side of the bed, crossing his ankles. “Are all parties like this?”

            Hansol laughs, coming over and lying down next to him. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to other parties.”

            Seungkwan looks over at him. “What? Really?”

            Hansol pushes up onto his side, propping his cheek in his hand and looking down at Seungkwan. “Really. You know, you’re really pretty like this. After that.”

            Seungkwan blushes, thinking that it’s actually the opposite, and that Hansol there above him is nothing short of everyone’s favorite scene from that indie film with the world’s most handsome actor. He says, “Don’t say that.”

            Hansol grins. “But your lips and your cute blushed cheeks and your messy hair.”

            Seungkwan smacks his arm. “Stop it, Hansol.”

            “I can’t. You’ve put me in a daze.”

            Seungkwan sighs heavily and looks at the ceiling again. “Is it weird that we’re lying here after we just agreed on not having sex?”

            Hansol shrugs. “Not at all. Maybe this is like, mental practice.”

            “You expect to in the future then?”

            “Expect?” Hansol says with a laugh. “I don’t know. Hope, definitely.”

            Seungkwan hums. As sort of a joke and sort of not, he says, “Well, I’ll let you know when my diet works out and then we’ll see.”

            Hansol frowns. “What are you talking about?”

            “You know.” Seungkwan shrugs. “We’d most likely be naked and all.”

            “Yeah, and?”

            He shrugs again. “Well, I’m just not comfortable with…showing myself.”

            Hansol makes a face. “What, like taking your shirt off?”

            Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Anything, Hansol.”

            Hansol is quiet for a moment, nodding over and over. “Yeah, for sure. That’s completely ridiculous. I happen to think that you’re really cute and—”

            “Exactly.”

            Hansol tilts his head. “What?”

            “You think I’m cute,” Seungkwan says, looking down at his own tummy with his eyes.

            “Is that bad?” Hansol asks.

            Seungkwan huffs. “No, obviously not. It’s just…I don’t want to just be cute or even pretty. I want to be handsome like you and have your sharp features and sharp jawline and abs like yours and—”

            “I don’t have abs.”

            Seungkwan pauses, looking over at him. “Yes you do, I’ve—”

            “Barely.”

            “I’ve felt them.”

            Hansol widens his pretty eyes at him for emphasis. “I really don’t.”

            Seungkwan deadpans. “Lift your shirt up.”

            Hansol laughs. “Kwannie, really?”

            “Do it, Hansol.”

            Hansol closes his mouth, then sighs and rolls onto his back, reaching down for his sweatshirt and the shirt underneath. He tugs them up just enough to show his stomach and looks at Seungkwan for confirmation.

            Seungkwan stares at Hansol’s flawless pale skin, at the faint outlines of his abdominals. Maybe it’s because he’s skinny but he’s toned and not soft like Seungkwan is. Of course there’s not a six-pack but Seungkwan never said there was. It’s just…perfect.

            He reaches a hand out and brushes his fingertips along Hansol’s skin before realizing what he’s doing and drawing his hand back.

            “That tickles,” Hansol says quietly.

            Seungkwan pushes at his hands so that Hansol covers up again. “See.” His voice does something weird and he clears his throat. “As I was saying. Abs like yours. And smaller cheeks and smaller thighs and—”

            “Seungkwan, please shut up.”

            Seungkwan frowns at him, then looks away, crossing his arms partially out of being stubborn, partially because he clearly can’t trust his hands anymore. “Thanks a lot, Hansol. You really make me feel good.”

            “You _are_ handsome, Seungkwan,” Hansol says, pushing up again and leaning over Seungkwan. “No, you don’t have my face or whatever because I’m half American and I got this weird jawline while you have the V-line face everyone else wants.”

            Seungkwan won’t look him in the eyes. Too dangerous.

            “Plus amazing cheekbones,” Hansol says. He thinks for a second, looking at Seungkwan’s face, then says, “And you know, sometimes when you’re—” he snaps his fingers, “like, remember last week when one of the lacrosse guys insulted Seokmin’s blue hair and you totally chewed him out for it?”

            Seungkwan nods a little. He did accidentally get really mad. Those guys were never nice to anyone anyway.

            “You get this look on your face and this light in your eyes and…” Hansol shakes his head. “Seriously, Seungkwan, I know this is weird but it’s kind of hot.”

            Seungkwan can’t help but smile a little. “I do make that face a lot.”

            “And I’m lucky enough to have it made at me all the time.”

            Seungkwan pauses, looking over at him finally. “Wait…you teased me on purpose?”

            Hansol makes a _duh_ face. “Don’t you know when we tease each other it means we like each other?”

            Seungkwan clicks his tongue. “Isn’t that for like second graders?”

            “I firmly believe I was in the second grade twice and my mom won’t tell me.”

            Seungkwan laughs and thumps Hansol’s chest yet again. “Stop.”

            Hansol laughs too. “And you also have a really great ass.”

            Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he reddens. “Ah—you don’t have to—”

            “Like, a _really_ great ass. Like, when you wear your grey pants and tuck your shirt in?” He bites his lip and closes his eyes, tilting his head up as if to thank whatever’s up there for making Seungkwan’s butt. “Mm. I just want to grab it, you know? Seriously perfect.”

            Seungkwan just sits there with his mouth open. “Wh—Hansol.”

            “And the most gorgeous thick thighs.”

            “Hansol!” He squeezes his arms tighter around himself as if that would prevent anything.

            “Sorry,” Hansol says, laughing again. “But also not sorry. You do what makes you happy and if you’re happy then I’m happy but I just want to say that I don’t think you need to lose any weight and your body is absolutely amazing just the way it is and maybe this is too much right now but when we do have sex if we do, I’ll like being able to hold onto something, you know? Your waist or your butt or your freaking _gorgeous_ thighs.”

            “Just—”

            “You really are beautiful, Seungkwan. And handsome and everything.”

            “Just shut up.”

            “You are. I haven’t seen too much of you but you’ve worn shorts and short sleeves and you’re just so smooth and you’re like the perfect thickness that I like, though that’s probably just because it’s you because you could lose or gain weight and I’d still think you’re flawless. You look incredible literally all the time and I think I really want to cuddle you right now.”

            Seungkwan squeezes his eyes shut, covers his face with his hands, and makes some weird noise. He can’t take all of these compliments because he _knows_ they’re sincere—he knows Hansol really does think all these things about him. Hansol only ever says his truth. Why is it so weird to have found somebody who appreciates every last bit of him? He should be through the roof happy about this. Or maybe he is, and he’s just not used to feeling like this so it comes through as embarrassment.

            “Why are you being weird?” he mumbles through his hands.

            Hansol chuckles. “I’m not. I’m being honest.”

            Seungkwan sighs again and takes one hand away from his face, holding it out in Hansol’s direction. When Hansol does nothing, he flaps it around. “Come on.”

            But Hansol waits until Seungkwan finally opens his eyes in frustration before taking his hand and holding it tight. “One day,” Hansol says.

            Seungkwan looks at him, hopes for a foolish moment that Hansol will never let his hand go, then focuses again on the ceiling. “I bet the other couples have all done it.”

            Hansol lies down again, scooting closer to him, their hands twined together between them. “You mean all those guys who are older than us?” Seungkwan hums. “Well, that’s them,” Hansol says. “We’re us.”

            “I wonder if Jisoo has,” Seungkwan says, glancing down at the bed.

            Hansol shrugs. “Maybe he’s met that college girl of his off campus. Maybe he’s celibate.”

            Seungkwan snorts. “I bet he’s not.”

            “All right. Maybe he’s totally kinky.”

            Seungkwan gasps, and they both start laughing. “He’s cool,” Seungkwan says. “I like him.”

            Hansol hums and nods. “Me too. Kwannie, do you think maybe we set our own point?”

            Seungkwan frowns, then realizes Hansol is randomly bringing up psychology again. So Hansol was actually listening. He says, “That’s not really how it works.”

            “No but work with me here,” Hansol says. He pushes up again, letting go of Seungkwan’s hand, leaning over him and looking down into his face. “Maybe you get to decide. My mom always told me that finding happiness is a lost cause because happiness is actually a choice. It seemed kind of cheesy at first, but I think I’m getting old enough to understand it now. I mean, think about it.” He waves his hand out into the air. “From the beginning of this year, nothing around us has changed—same school, same classes, same people. But we’re happier now, aren’t we? Not that we were exactly sad before but we’ve chosen that this is our level of happiness now. Maybe—well, _definitely_ it’ll go up and down, I mean, that’s life. But we get to decide how much we let it affect us, how much we allow it to change how we feel and who we are. Maybe we aren’t genetically predisposed to a set level of happiness like the theory says, but maybe a set level does exist. It just happens to be one that we choose for ourselves.”

            Seungkwan brings a hand up to Hansol’s face and pulls him down into a kiss. This time Hansol hums in surprise, but kisses back happily. Seungkwan lies back down and takes Hansol’s hand again, holding it even tighter as Hansol settles next to him, shock evident on his features.

            It’s quiet for a long time before Hansol says in almost a whisper, “So maybe I’m onto something then?”

            “Hansol?”

            “Yeah?”

            “I like you. I should have said it before.”

            Hansol shakes his head. “You didn’t need to. I knew.”

            Seungkwan nods, then asks, “Can we be boyfriends now?”

            He can feel Hansol’s huge smile next to him. “Who are you and what have you done to Boo Seungkwan?”

            Seungkwan pouts his lips out, whining, and rolls sideways toward Hansol, resting his head against his chest.

            Hansol nearly gasps. He marvels down at Seungkwan, his pink hair soft and healthy, and kisses it. “Absolutely.”

            “If we do…you know,” Seungkwan asks, bringing his hand up and messing with Hansol’s sweatshirt over his stomach, sticking his fingers in the pocket and wiggling them.

            “Yeah?” Hansol says.

            Seungkwan sighs. “Will it really be your first time?”

            Hansol nods. “Yeah, it will. Unless you count when I’m alone as—”

            “No. No, that doesn’t count,” Seungkwan says, shaking his head and hiding a smile. “And I believe you.”

            “If it did count, would it be _your_ first time?” Hansol asks.

            Seungkwan stops playing with Hansol’s jacket, frowning a little. “You’re asking if I’ve masturbated. To you, I assume.”

            Hansol gets a rare, intense blush, all the way down his neck. “Well, if you say it straight like that…”

            “I think that’s better kept a secret.”

            Hansol fake whines a little. “Please tell me. I’ll be in agony.”

            Seungkwan laughs. “Isn’t that kind of my personal thing?”

            “I’m your boyfriend, right? Please please please?”

            “Why is it so important?” Seungkwan asks, lifting his head to smile at Hansol.

            Hansol clicks his tongue like it’s obvious. “Cause I’ve jerked off to you a hundred times and—”

            “Hansol!” Seungkwan sits fully up, staring wide-eyed down at his boyfriend, smacking his chest for a third time.

            “What!” Hansol says. “It’s true. Was that gross? I’m sorry. I just want to know if you have, too. Please? I’ll give you a kiss.” He puckers his lips out.

            Seungkwan leans back, scrunching his face up. “That’s not attractive.”

            “Don’t change the subject. Kiss and tell.”

            Seungkwan huffs and leans down, kissing him quickly. “No,” he says.

            Hansol gasps, and his eyes sadden a little. “You haven’t? Not even once?”

            “I meant no I won’t tell you,” Seungkwan says.

            “So you have!”

            “Hansol.”

            Hansol wraps his arms around Seungkwan and pulls him down beside him again, kissing his face. “I knew it. I bet you looked great.”

            Seungkwan just glares over at the wall. “This is why I didn’t say anything.”

            “I’m happy to let you watch me some time. We could do like a mutual thing. It’d be a good start. Even though you don’t think I’m attractive.”

            Seungkwan wishes he could just go to sleep now, here in Hansol’s arms. He sighs heavily and closes his eyes. “Uh huh.”

            Hansol hums and kisses his nose. “You’re supposed to say, but Hansol I do think you’re attractive, just not your face.”

            “If I say that will you let me rest until New Year’s?”

            Hansol chuckles and nods. “Sure, Kwannie.”

            Seungkwan sighs again. “But Hansol, I do think you’re attractive. Especially your face.” He nuzzles into Hansol’s side then, finally allowed to settle.

            Hansol looks down at him, his beautiful skin and his perfect lips and his adorable cheeks and his pretty lashes and everything he likes about Seungkwan’s face and the rest of him too. He smiles and shakes his head, then kisses Seungkwan’s bangs and lies back, bending his forearm up underneath his head and gazing up at the ceiling as he listens to the music out in the dorm.

            “You too,” he says.


	51. YJH: The Angel's Confession (As You Are Now)

_11:20 pm_

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, making the final few steps between his dorm and Jeonghan’s. They’re only some twenty doors away from each other, but the walk has never seemed so long. Neither of them has made this walk since Jeonghan came running into Seungcheol’s dorm those weeks ago, and Seungcheol sent him out. But he doesn’t want to think about that day, because they’re better now, a little bit. They’ve talked, hardly, but it’s been at least something. Seungcheol hopes this is a sign that the problems are slowly starting to fix themselves. He will still be patient with Jeonghan and wait, no matter how long it takes. Besides, no matter how few words they say to each other, Seungcheol is still happy that there are any at all.

            He sighs, turning to face the door to Jeonghan’s dorm. He messes with his shirt, then tells himself to stop stalling, and knocks.

            After a bit of waiting, the door clicks open and Jeonghan is standing there, gorgeous as always in ripped light jeans and a rosy, half-tucked button up, gazing up at him with flawlessly made-up eyes.

            Seungcheol’s heart seems to trickle down into his stomach. “Hannie, you…” He shakes his head. “Happy New Year’s Eve.”

            Jeonghan blinks at him. He starts to come out of his dorm so Seungcheol steps out of his way, watching him shut and lock the door. He turns to Seungcheol and says, “You too.”

            Without a word, Seungcheol puts out his hand. Jeonghan takes it, and they walk in silence to Jisoo’s dorm in the next building over.

 

“Guys. You made it,” Jisoo says, welcoming them in with a gentle smile.

            “Thanks, Jisoo,” Seungcheol says, leading Jeonghan by the hand inside.

            “Can I get you two anything?” Jisoo offers, closing the door.

            Seungcheol doesn’t answer for a second. He looks around as they walk in, and a lot of people have turned to look at them, some of them turning right back around, some of them watching with a mild and, as Seungcheol understands now, probably good-intentioned curiosity. Still, he doesn’t want to pull Jeonghan over to the three couches Jisoo somehow has in his dorm so that everyone already sitting there in front of the TV can stare at them for however long.

            “A place to sit?” Seungcheol says, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand.

            Jisoo nods. “Totally.” He waves them to follow him across the dorm. “Come over here to the dining…”

            The group of boys already at the mini sofa placed back against the wall behind the dining area seem to get the idea when they walk up. They glance at the three seniors and then all suddenly need drink refills and start out for the kitchen.

            Jisoo tells them a quiet thank you, and Seungcheol bows his head a little. “Is this okay, Hannie?” he asks.

            Jeonghan nods.

            Seungcheol turns to thank Jisoo, but he’s already gone back to the crowd. He blinks and starts to say something else, but Jeonghan pulls him to the sofa. He sits next to Jeonghan, not close enough to touch or lean against comfortably. That’s okay. This is a lot closer than they’ve sat together in a long time.

            He doesn’t know what to do or say—Jeonghan probably won’t be doing much talking tonight. But Jeonghan invited him here, and so Seungcheol is going to make the best of it. He puts his hands on his thighs and taps his fingers and says, “Different kind of party, huh? As expected from someone classy like Jisoo.”

            Jeonghan looks at him, nodding slightly, his hair soft and shiny in the low light.

            Seungcheol smiles. “A lot different than the parties we went to back in sophomore year when we shared four classes and had half the homework.” At those parties, they didn’t just sit and talk if they were alone. But things aren’t like that anymore.

            “Yeah,” Jeonghan says. “I like this one.”

            Seungcheol laughs a little. “Me too. It’s nice.” He pauses and says, “Are you sure you don’t want anything? It smells like chocolate chip cookies in here.” He draws in a deep breath, then frowns. “And…also a little like weed.”

            Jeonghan looks over at him, and in his eyes Seungcheol sees that Jeonghan might be smiling if he could.

            So Seungcheol smiles for him again. “I’d bet all my money on Johnny’s side.” He laughs again and looks at his knees. “So…how are you, Jeonghan? It’s been a while since I’ve asked.”

            Jeonghan looks away and says, “All right.”

            Seungcheol turns a little to face him. “Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad.” He wonders if he sounds patronizing, or pitying. He isn’t either one. He really just wants Jeonghan to be okay. As patient as he can be, he still can’t wait until they finally get to the bottom of this and change it forever. He nods again and says, “That’s really good.”

            “I’m sorry,” Jeonghan whispers.

            Seungcheol looks at him, staring across the room at nothing. He almost puts a hand on Jeonghan’s leg, but keeps himself from it. Jeonghan might not be ready yet. He shakes his head and asks, “What for?”

            Jeonghan takes a while to say, “I’m sorry it’s taking so long.”

            Seungcheol faces him more, moving just a tiny bit closer. “Hannie, don’t be. It’s okay. I can’t say I know how hard this is for you because I don’t. I have no idea how you’re feeling inside besides…not good. But I don’t mind waiting, Jeonghan. Really. I’d wait a lifetime for you.”

            Tears begin to well in Jeonghan’s eyes.

            Looking then at Jeonghan’s profile, Seungcheol wonders if it’s all about to finally happen. All that hope that it would soon, the anticipation for this moment turns instantly into an anxious squeezing in his chest. He can sense clearly that Jeonghan is about to have his inevitable breakdown.

            He says quietly, “It’s okay, Hannie. You can tell me.”

            Finally, after weeks of it, the vacant expression on Jeonghan’s face breaks, and his features squeeze up. He brings his hands up to cover his face and begins to weep.

            “I can’t take it anymore,” he says into his palms.

            This time, Seungcheol tries to force his hand to Jeonghan’s back, but it won’t go. “Take what, Hannie?” he asks, though he thinks he knows very well.

            Jeonghan shakes his head. “Everyone.”

            Around them, _2411_ transitions into Jay Park’s _Stay With Me_. Seungcheol sighs, aching having to see the person he’s most in love with like this. “Jeonghan…”

            “I just can’t do it, Seungcheol. They hate me. Everybody. My family…” He swallows heavily and pushes his hair back from his face, but it falls right back. “My parents, my sister. They don’t accept me for who I am because—” He looks up suddenly, staring desperately into Seungcheol’s eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Seungcheol can only stare back, all of his breath taken away. “Because I love you,” Jeonghan says. “Because you’re a boy and I love you. Even before I met you—since I knew when I was thirteen what being gay was and I tried to hide it, they knew and they hated me. And then—” His breath hitches and he chokes on a sob, his eyes squeezing shut and letting more tears drip down and off his chin. “Wh-when I told them about you five months after we started dating…” He shakes his head, his hair swaying. “They disowned me, Seungcheol. They gave me what I needed for high school and cut me off and disowned me. After this year, I—I don’t know what I’ll—” He can’t talk any longer and covers his face again.

            Seungcheol can only watch him cry for a moment. _What?_ Seungcheol never really saw Jeonghan talk to his parents, and he didn’t talk about them much, and Seungcheol has of course never met them, but he always just figured that was because Jeonghan was always such an independent, strong person. He never knew it was anything like this. How could he possibly have missed it? His family has always been supportive, said they knew since Seungcheol was a child that he was different, helped him figure out if he wanted to be a part of typical male norms, like toys and clothes when he was younger, football in middle school and now. He told his parents about Jeonghan after the first day of school with him, and a week later—just to give himself enough time to justify the intense feelings he already had—he spent twenty minutes explaining the huge crush he had on that boy he told them about last Monday. They were happy for him then, even happier when he told them he and Jeonghan had started dating, and he never considered that they could have been anything otherwise. He talks to his parents about that stuff. He talks to his parents _all the time_. But Jeonghan has hardly mentioned anything of the sort, rarely talks about his childhood, and felt that he had to wait five months of obvious love to tell his parents, and probably would have waited longer—might have never told them at all—if he didn’t think he had to say it for Seungcheol’s sake.

            _How could he have been so blind?_ And to Jeonghan, the person who apparently needed him most.

            He realizes too that those five months into dating Jeonghan, when Jeonghan told his parents about their relationship, was exactly around the time when Jeonghan started to change from the happy, affectionate, huge-hearted person Seungcheol first met. Jeonghan apologized for taking long, but Seungcheol should be the one apologizing for waiting _three years_ to start trying to really figure it out.

            “Jeonghan,” he says. “Jeonghan, I’m so sorry. I…I don’t know what to say, I…”

            “It’s okay,” Jeonghan says thickly. “There’s nothing you can do about them.”

            Seungcheol frowns. “But that’s—that’s fucked up, Hannie. And you’ve talked to them before a hundred times, I’m sure. Before you met me.”

            Jeonghan just nods, his tears starting to form an irregular shape on the sofa cushion. “And it’s just—when I came here I thought that at least, if I had to be forced away from them, at least things would be okay here on my own. That I wouldn’t have people ridiculing me all the time like they did. But now…” He shakes his head and wipes a futile hand under his eyes before more tears stream out. “I can’t take the looks and the words and…why? Because my hair is long? Because I think my eyes look nice with some brown around them? Why do they say it’s ugly and wrong? _Why do they care?_ ” His hands shake as they come up again, hiding his face.

            Jeonghan has always been the most beautiful thing Seungcheol has ever seen. He loves Jeonghan’s beauty, inside and out, and everything else about him too. He used to think that Jeonghan knew that _too_ well, and was arrogant because of it. Now he understands that Jeonghan didn’t even know it at all.

            Weakly, he says, “Jeonghan.”

            “Why can’t I just be what they want?” Jeonghan says, voice strained. “Why can’t I be like you? Why doesn’t anyone accept me?”

            Something goes through Seungcheol’s body in an instant. What Jeonghan just said…he finally knows how to help. Maybe it won’t be good enough, but it’ll be a start. He at least has something he can say.

            “Jeonghan,” he says. He takes one of Jeonghan’s wrists, and Jeonghan looks down at their hands as Seungcheol holds his tightly. “Hannie…you are like me. Don’t you understand?”

            Jeonghan sniffs and looks into his eyes. “What do you mean?”

            Seungcheol rubs his thumb along the back of Jeonghan’s hand. “Think about it,” he says. “Think about me.”

            He could just say it right now, but Jeonghan looking at him, a little bit confused and a little bit impatient, his eyes still wet but dripping way less, is the whole point of making Jeonghan think.

            Jeonghan sighs and says, “I—I don’t _know_ , Seungcheol. I don’t know what you mean.”

            Seungcheol smiles gently. “Say some things about me. About who I am.”

            Jeonghan sighs again, shaking his head and looking down to think. “You’re…you’re a senior.”

            Seungcheol nods. “Right. Keep going.”

            Jeonghan sniffs and brings his free hand up to wipe his eyes, and this time, though his eyes remain glassy and wet, no tears follow. “You’re popular. Not like, popular but like—everyone just likes you.” He bites down on his lip. “Mmm…you’re a good student. You’re a good son—a _really_ good son. You’re a hard worker but you try too hard and you don’t need to because you’re smart and talented. You’re the quarterback of the football team. You have lots of friends and your teammates think you’re like the coolest guy ever.” He stops and shakes his head again. “You’re so many things.”

            Seungcheol laughs softly. “But there’s one thing you’re missing.” He squeezes Jeonghan’s hand and says, “It’s _really_ important.”

            Jeonghan looks into his eyes terribly sadly, as if, because he can’t think of it, Seungcheol will never forgive him. “I don’t know.”

            Seungcheol smiles wide and soft. “I’m gay too, Hannie. I’m _your_ boyfriend. I’m just as much into guys and dicks as you are.”

            Jeonghan seems to startle and blinks fast. “Wh—”

            “Well, as long as it’s you.” Seungcheol laughs again. “Only you.” He finally manages to get a hand up, and he thinks it’s okay now, so he brings his fingertips to Jeonghan’s face and brushes his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear like he always does. Jeonghan stares at him, astounded, like he’s only just realizing Seungcheol’s sexuality, his wide eyes flicking back and forth between Seungcheol’s.

            Seungcheol’s voice becomes very soft. “This will be horrible advice,” he says, and holds Jeonghan’s hand in both of his own. “But you shouldn’t care about what other people think. That’ll take forever to accomplish, I know. But it’s true. And it shouldn’t be about them and…” He sighs and looks down at their hands. “I don’t think it is. Hannie…people will come to accept you when you come to accept yourself.”

            He looks up, and Jeonghan’s chin trembles. He lowers his head, and his emotions make their way back, a few tears welling up again. He wipes his eyes. “I know. I know, Seungcheol. I—” His breath catches in his throat and he has to swallow hard to talk. “I’ve always felt like because of the way I am, nobody will ever like me or love me. Because I’m just different and—and wrong. But—” He looks up at Seungcheol through his tears. “But you love me, Seungcheol. You’ve loved me for so long and I’ve been scared to get closer to you and open up to you because I’ve been so afraid that if I loved you back, loved you completely with everything I have that you would realize what I was and you would hate me for it like my family and like so many people hate in this world.” He sighs long, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment before he blinks them open, shakes his head, and says, “But now I finally get it and—I’m sorry, Seungcheol. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said to you. I’ve said horrible things and none of it was ever true and you know that and I knew it but I said it anyway. I was stupid and I was saying things to you so you wouldn’t say them to me but I know you never ever would. I was scared and I feel _so_ _disgusted_ with myself for how I’ve treated you. I’m probably the most awful person in your life and—”

            “Baby, _no_.” Seungcheol lets go of Jeonghan’s hand to immediately bring his palms to Jeonghan’s cheeks, holding his face and wiping his tears. Jeonghan’s eyes close and he starts crying a little more again. “Don’t say that, Hannie,” Seungcheol says. “I do love you. I’ve loved you ever since we met here in art class that first day of our freshman year, and I was this fumbling giant spilling paints on this beautiful dainty perfect little thing but you _smiled_ at me, and you said it was okay and you could wash it out later and you helped me mix them right.” He moves closer to Jeonghan again, and their legs touch. “I love you, Yoon Jeonghan. And the fact that you’re the way you are not only makes complete perfect sense but also makes me love you so much more because you _aren’t_ afraid, Jeonghan. You’re not afraid to have long hair and wear makeup and nice fitted clothing. You walk with such confidence and like you absolutely _love_ your body and you should because you’re fucking stunning, Jeonghan. Who cares what your sexuality is or what you want to call yourself in that respect? The fact that you love and respect yourself made me love you instantly and has made it impossible for me to not be in love with you all this time.”

            Jeonghan just squeezes his eyes shut tighter and cries. “Seung—Seungcheol…”

            “Show that all the time, Jeonghan. Show everyone how amazing you are. They’ll have no choice but to love you like I do.” He leans forward and kisses Jeonghan’s cheek, so lightly, for the first time in a long, long time. Jeonghan shivers and opens his eyes to look at Seungcheol’s face close to his. Seungcheol reaches for Jeonghan’s hands again, and Jeonghan takes them. “But they’ll never love you as much as I do,” Seungcheol says. “I am _so_ in love with you. And I hated to see you so upset and not know what to do about it. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you sooner— _didn’t_ help you sooner, Jeonghan. I’m so sorry I didn’t stand up for you when I should have. I didn’t know what to do. I-I’m…” His own voice breaks now, and he feels a tear roll down his cheek.

            “No,” Jeonghan whispers, his eyes wide and shining, bringing his hands up to quickly wipe away Seungcheol’s tears. “No. Please.”

            Seungcheol can’t help it. He cries too, and Jeonghan keeps brushing his cheeks, too gentle, his fingers shaking badly, pleading for him to stop. Seungcheol shakes his head and says, “I can’t. I thought I might have lost you forever, Hannie. I missed you so much.”

            Jeonghan stares at him, his whole body trembling. This time, he takes Seungcheol’s face in both of his hands, and after weeks of barely touching each other save for tonight, he kisses him. “Please,” he says, and kisses him again. Their tears fall between their lips. “Please forgive me,” he whispers, his breath hitching. “I love you.”

            “Jeonghan,” Seungcheol whispers back.

            Jeonghan collapses forward into Seungcheol’s arms. He sobs against Seungcheol’s neck, holding him too tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

            They cry together for a while, Jeonghan’s body shaking with his breaths, his tears wet against Seungcheol’s neck and the collar of his shirt, Seungcheol’s tears making Jeonghan’s hair stick to his cheek. When Seungcheol pulls himself together, he says, “I’m sorry, baby. And I forgive you. Please forgive me. Please accept yourself.”

            Jeonghan nods against his shoulder. After a long time of Seungcheol rubbing his back and holding him gently, he says, “You don’t need to be forgiven, Seungcheol. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. And…I’ll try.” He leans back and sniffs, wiping under his eyes again, his makeup completely ruined. “Will you help me?”

            Seungcheol smiles softly and nods. “Of course, Hannie. Not one day will go by when I won’t tell you one of the million things I love about you.”

            Jeonghan does a small smile. “I love you so much. I promise I’ll do the same.”

            “I love you too, baby. Don’t cry anymore.”

            Jeonghan takes a deep breath and sighs it out. It’s shaky, but he feels so much better now. Things are finally starting to be where they need to be. The weight is finally beginning to lift.

            As he wipes away the last of his tears, Dean’s _Half Moon_ starts to play. Jeonghan looks into Seungcheol’s eyes, listening to the piano, and nods. “Okay. I’m okay.”

            “You’re perfect,” Seungcheol says. “Please come here and kiss me.”

            He takes Jeonghan’s waist, pulling him over his lap. Jeonghan holds his face, tilting his chin up, and they kiss each other lightly, lips just pressing together. Seungcheol slides a gentle hand down to Jeonghan’s thigh, and Jeonghan’s hair surrounds their faces.

            “We’ll figure everything out,” Seungcheol says. “We have all the time we need. The end of the year is a long way away, and when we do get there, we’ll figure it out together.”

            Jeonghan says against Seungcheol’s lips, “I love you, Seungcheol. I promise we’ll start over.”

            Seungcheol shakes his head, feeling Jeonghan’s hair on his cheeks like angel wings. “Never. I love you, even more than I did when we met, as you are now.”

            Jeonghan laughs a beautiful sad laugh and whispers, “Then you’re crazy.” He kisses him again.

            Seungcheol is about to say _For you_ when behind Jeonghan comes, “Am I interrupting?”

            Seungcheol smiles and Jeonghan does a big gasp, sitting up on Seungcheol’s thighs and whipping his head around. “ _Jihoon_.”

            “Hey, Jeonghan,” Jihoon says.

            Jeonghan scrambles up from Seungcheol’s lap and grabs Jihoon’s hands, holding them tight. Jihoon looks up at him calmly, as usual, and his eyes show something like solace. “Jihoon. I’m sorry,” Jeonghan says quickly. “Where do I even start? I’m sorry I was such a bitch to you before. That I stopped communicating with you and…stopped looking at you. I was embarrassed for you to see me like that. Like I’ve been all this time. I’m embarrassed for you to see me now. I’ll tell you everything—all of it. It’s no excuse but—”

            “It is,” Jihoon says. “And it’s fine, Jeonghan.”

            Jeonghan frowns and holds his hands even tighter. “No, it’s not fine. You’ve been here for me longer than anyone else. You’re my family—my _real_ family, Jihoon, and I don’t treat you like it. I treat you like my family treats me and…” He shakes his head. “I’ve been awful to you. I became something terrible and I’m done with that. I’m done thinking that you’ll hate me because even though you should I _know_ you don’t. You couldn’t hate anyone.” He pauses, sharing Jihoon’s unwavering gaze. “I need you in my life and I didn’t realize how much until you were gone, and then I didn’t know how to fix it. I’m really _really_ sorry, Jihoon. I hope you can forgive me and we can go back to how it was before. Can we?”

            He stares at Jihoon, and he’s never been able to read Jihoon’s face but especially not since they grew apart. He is truly afraid that Jihoon will say no. And Jihoon has every right to with how Jeonghan threw him away.

            But Jihoon looks up at him and says, “Of course, Jeonghan. You’re my best friend.”

            Jeonghan gets a beautiful light in his eyes, and he leans forward and captures Jihoon in a too-tight hug, but Jihoon just hugs back. “I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan says, one last time.

            Jihoon puts his face in Jeonghan’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “We can talk about it all later, okay?” he says. “You can tell me anything. I’ve…I’ve missed you, Han.”

            Jeonghan tightens his hands in Jihoon’s shirt. “Me too, Jihoon. So much.”

            Next to them, Seungcheol watches, forcing himself not to cry again, because this is finally it. Jeonghan is finally healing.

            Jihoon looks over at Seungcheol and mouths, _Thank you_.

            Seungcheol only shakes his head as if to say, _No. Thank you._


	52. JC/VK/JH/M: At Midnight

NEW YEAR'S EVE: OUTRO. INCOMPLETION

 

_11:59 pm_

“I was thinking just the one twenty minutes away,” Jihoon says, leaning back in the chair he turned to face his friends and scrolling through his phone. He hums along to _If I_ playing in the dorm.

            Jeonghan smiles and nods to him from the sofa. “Me too. Jisoo says he’s going there at least his first year. And—babe, aren’t you still waiting to hear about that football scholarship?”

            Seungcheol smiles halfway and shrugs, looking down at Jeonghan’s hand that he’s playing with. Even just Jeonghan’s fingers are the prettiest fingers in the world. He’ll make sure to mention that as one of the million things. “They’re supposed to announce in March. I think Jackson will get it.”

            “Jackson will get all of them,” Jihoon says. “He’ll probably end up picking, like, Yale or Tennessee.” He frowns at something on his screen. “Oh. It’s—”

            “And you can both get one,” Jeonghan says. “And both take it or not take it, right?”

            Seungcheol shrugs again. “Yeah. I was kind of thinking I wanted to take a gap year, though. Spend time with the people I love.” He dovetails his fingers through Jeonghan’s and kisses his hand, looking into Jeonghan’s eyes. “Maybe take a trip or something.”

            Jeonghan stares at him. He says softly, “But then you might not—”

            “Japan in winter maybe?” Seungcheol says. “Or some place with beaches.”

            “Guys,” Jihoon says, and then the music cuts off. Seungcheol and Jeonghan look at him in the relative quiet. “It’s almost midnight,” he says.

            Around them, everyone starts the countdown from _Ten_.

            The three of them smile at each other, and then Jihoon makes a point of looking back at his phone, and Jeonghan turns to Seungcheol and looks into his eyes.

            _Seven_.

            “I only have ten seconds—or—” Jeonghan quickly takes Seungcheol’s other hand. _Five_. “Thank you, Seungcheol. For always being everything I need even when I was being everything I’m not. I’m so glad to have spent this year and all our years with you. I know you said not to but I swear I will make this up to you, no matter what it takes, and that we—”

            “I am so madly in love with you,” Seungcheol says, and takes Jeonghan’s face to pull him into a kiss. _One_.

            “Happy New Year,” Jihoon says through a smile, quieter than everyone else, his phone screen dark.

            _We Like to Party_ starts to play. Around the dorm, cups are tapping together and boys are giving each other hugs or fist bumps, the stream on the TV shows colorful confetti and clapping hands. Jeonghan just kisses Seungcheol, and Seungcheol just kisses Jeonghan, until finally Jeonghan breaks the kiss and says, “Day one: your lips.”

            Seungcheol grins and says, “Day one: your laugh.”

            Jeonghan does just that.

            And then he jumps up from the couch to bound over to Jihoon and plant a rough kiss on his head. “Happy New Year, Jihoon.” He grins.

            Jihoon brings a hand up to smooth down his hair. “Ahh…” He sighs. “Happy New Year, Han.

            “Should we go join the others?” Seungcheol suggests, standing.

            Jeonghan tilts his head at him. “Who?”

            “All our friends,” Jihoon says.

            Seungcheol takes Jeonghan’s hand. When Jeonghan looks with big eyes at him, he smiles gently. “Let’s not make them wait any longer, huh?”

            As Jihoon leads the way toward the common, tucking his phone in his pocket, Jeonghan squeezes Seungcheol’s hand.

 

Seungkwan is pretty sure Hansol thinks he fell asleep, because he keeps playing with his hair just gently enough that it wouldn’t wake him up if he actually were sleeping. But Seungkwan doesn’t mind—he figures it’s a boyfriend thing. He’s always wanted someone to mindlessly play with his hair, anyway. Plus, he likes listening to Hansol’s breathing, his head pillowed on Hansol’s chest, resting soft against his sweatshirt, his hand over Hansol’s stomach tucked into the pocket.

            Outside the room, the music cuts off. The fingers in his hair go still.

            “Psst. Seungkwan.”

            Seungkwan smiles. _Ten._

            “It’s almost New Year’s. They’re counting,” Hansol says, and he still can’t whisper.

            “I hear it,” Seungkwan says. He pushes up onto his elbows and looks into his boyfriend’s always handsome face. He looks just like Hansol.

            _Six_. _Five. Four._

Seungkwan giggles accidentally, smiling.

            Hansol smiles back.

            _Two. One._

            Seungkwan leans in to meet Hansol’s lips. He feels Hansol’s hand come to rest on his middle back, pressing ever so gently, reassuringly, like he’s trying to keep him just a little closer. This time, Seungkwan smiles into the kiss.

            _We Like to Party_ starts to play, muffled outside the bedroom door.

            Seungkwan leans back and says, “Hansol.”

            Hansol sighs out. He sounds entirely content, and finally Seungkwan knows the feeling. “Yeah?”

            For some reason, Seungkwan laughs again, which makes Hansol laugh, and Seungkwan blush. “Um…maybe before school starts again…” He looks down and starts messing with the drawstring on Hansol’s sweatshirt.

            “Mm?” Hansol asks.

            “Maybe we could have our families meet?” Seungkwan says. “I think my sisters would really like Sofia.”

            Hansol raises his eyebrows, but Seungkwan is thankful that his voice remains quiet and calm, watching Seungkwan’s face closely. “And your parents?”

            Seungkwan bites down inside his lip and nods in answer.

            “Yes,” Hansol says, and lifts his head to kiss Seungkwan’s cheek. “My parents are going to love you.”

            Seungkwan closes his eyes and lets out his breath.

            The hand on his back pulls gently again, and Seungkwan lies back down.

            “Happy New Year, Kwannie.”

            “You too, Hansol.”

 

Junhui’s arm is over Minghao’s shoulders, and he’s gazing at him while the countdown goes on around them. “Three. Two.”

            “One,” Minghao says, and leans to the side to give Junhui a quick kiss that anyone who’s watching can see.

            Junhui smiles at him. “Happy New Year, Minghao.”

            “Happy New Year, Jun,” Minghao says, and leans comfortably into his side, crossing his arms.

           “Ahhh!” Soonyoung shakes his hands in front of his chest over on the other sofa. “New year, new you guys!”

            Minghao shakes his head, smiling, while Junhui laughs. _We Like to Party_ starts to play.

            Then Soonyoung sticks out his lower lip all of a sudden and his shoulders drop. “Ah. I’ve never kissed anyone on New Year’s.”

            “Me either, hyung,” Chan says, nudging him with his elbow to cheer him up.

            Soonyoung blinks at him, and then leans over and gives Chan the quickest peck on the cheek, and grins so widely his eyes close.

            Chan brings his fingertips to it and goes deeply pink.

            “Make that two.” Jisoo, walking by behind the sofa, leans down and kisses the crown of Chan’s head and says, “Happy New Year.” He smiles and walks on.

            While Soonyoung and Minghao smile, Chan’s mouth opens and he starts to look up, which makes Junmyeon’s kiss land on his bangs. “Happy New Year, Lee Chan,” he says with a wink, and follows Jisoo into the kitchen.

            Chan blinks for a moment, eyes wide. “I…”

            “Last one,” a final voice says from behind Chan and Soonyoung, and everyone looks over to it.

            When Soonyoung turns to look up, Seokmin kisses him firmly on the lips. He squeals and his knees press together, but he doesn’t pull away. Seokmin holds it there for a moment, letting Soonyoung realize what’s happening, then leaves one more kiss, the sound evident even with the music, before standing up again.

            Soonyoung doesn’t open his eyes for a second, his chin tilted up in the same position and his lips still stuck out a little. Then the blush blooms from the apples of his cheeks all the way down past his jaw, and he tries to get his body to relax.

            “Happy New Year, Soonyoung,” Seokmin says, then rounds the sofa and sits down on the empty one across the space from him, leaning back into the cushions.

            Soonyoung breathes out, “Ha…you…” but nothing more. He stares for a moment at Seokmin looking calmly over at him before averting his gaze to Minghao.

            It’s the first time Minghao has ever seen Soonyoung at such a loss for words, his lips stuck in his little O. But he’s surprised too—who knew? And he can feel Junhui’s hand tighter on his shoulder in anticipation. He tilts his head in Seokmin’s direction: _Get on that._

“ _Hyung,_ ” Chan whispers, and nudges Soonyoung again, a little harder. Soonyoung looks at Chan’s elbow, then up at Junhui.

            Junhui opens his eyes a little more and nods.

            Soonyoung visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple moving, and he glances back at Seokmin one more time before tapping his fingers on his knees and standing up, walking an uncharacteristically shy eight steps to the other sofa. He turns and sits down next to his first kiss.

            “Uh—hi, Seokmin. Um…” He scoots his body to face him better. He takes a deep breath and says, hand out didactically, “Happy New Year, too.”

            Seokmin smiles at him. His smiles always were really nice. “Sorry if—”

            “Don’t be,” Soonyoung says quickly. “Thank you. I’m…”

            “Are you coming to the play at the end of January?” Seokmin asks.

            Soonyoung brightens. Something he knows the answer to. “Yes. Yes I am. You’re playing, uh…what’s his name again?”

            “Lumiére.” He smiles more.

            Soonyoung nods fast. “Right. Yeah. Of course I’m going.”

            On the adjacent sofa, Junhui leans close to Minghao and says, “Especially now.”

            Minghao laughs and says under his breath, “If he mentions anything about chemistry club.”

            “Do you…like science?” Soonyoung asks.

            Minghao sighs. Junhui just chuckles, leans over, and kisses his temple.

 

“I just hope everything’s going well,” Wonwoo says, looking down at his hands, playing with the ends of the sleeves of his pale yellow sweater.

            Mingyu smiles at him, leaning against the wall off to the side of the dorm next to him. “Like Junhui said before—eventually. Right?” Wonwoo hums. Mingyu takes his wrist and pulls him to face him until they’re hardly standing apart from each other. He brings his hand down to Wonwoo’s hip and squeezes. “Hey. Since when am I the one who reassures you? Jeonghan’s gonna be okay.”

            Wonwoo sighs and tucks two fingers into Mingyu’s front pocket, tugging. “I know. He’s resilient and very strong. I just feel like I’ve said all I can. It’s up to him now.”

            Mingyu nods, pulling Wonwoo closer. “Mhm. Who knows? Maybe they’re over there doing just fine, yeah?” He tilts his head down, nosing at the side of Wonwoo’s hair.

            Wonwoo clicks his tongue and pokes Mingyu’s stomach, holding in a smile. “It’s not midnight.”

            “Midnight is taking too long.” He’s about to press a kiss just under Wonwoo’s ear, but Wonwoo moves away.

            “Be patient,” he says, the smile coming through, and he pushes up his glasses on his nose.

            Mingyu whines a little and takes Wonwoo’s waist in his hands. “Please?”

            Wonwoo just looks up at him, at his parted bangs falling over his forehead, at the dim highlight on his cheekbone from the lights overhead, at the way he stares into Wonwoo’s eyes like this isn’t a party but an empty room. Wonwoo smiles, and at the same time as everyone else he says, “Ten.”

            Mingyu’s eyebrows get worried. “Oh god. I can’t wait that long.”

            Wonwoo laughs softly, keeping watch of Mingyu’s face, feeling his fingertips pressing into his waist. “Seven. Six.”

            Mingyu bounces on his toes. “One. One.”

            Wonwoo shakes his head at him. “Three. Two.”

            Before Mingyu can swoop in, Wonwoo brings his hands up and grabs Mingyu’s cheeks, squishing them in. Mingyu’s eyes widen a little, and Wonwoo goes up on his toes and mushes their lips together. Pulling back, he says, “I thought that might work?”

            Mingyu sits there for a split second with his mouth open, for the millionth time in disbelief that he gets to call this amazing person his boyfriend, and then he’s kissing Wonwoo’s cheeks and his nose and his forehead and his lips.

            Wonwoo laughs and wraps his arms over Mingyu’s shoulders. He closes his eyes and lets Mingyu keep kissing him. “Mingyu.”

            “Can’t talk now,” Mingyu says, placing little pecks on Wonwoo’s jaw.

            Wonwoo smiles easily. “Happy New Year, Mingyu.”

            Mingyu pauses, and _We Like to Party_ starts to play. He leans back, and he looks at Wonwoo’s every feature. He brushes Wonwoo’s bangs from his eyes and says, “Happy New Year, baby. Babe. Wonwoo.” He lets his hand slide back to Wonwoo’s neck and leans in to kiss him, putting every bit of warmth he has into a single second. Keeping close, he says against his boyfriend’s perfect lips, “ _Wonwoo_.”

            He kisses him again, and again, and Wonwoo’s arms get a little tighter around his neck. He moves down just under Wonwoo’s jaw, leaving a few there, then further to Wonwoo’s neck, and—

            “ _Wait._ ”

            Mingyu startles and draws back from Wonwoo. Wonwoo looks over at the voice too.

            Jeonghan’s eyes are wider than Wonwoo has ever seen. His free hand is pointing weakly at them, the occupied one laced together with Seungcheol’s.

            Wonwoo feels his heart lift, and Mingyu’s hands squeeze his waist again as if to say, _There it is._

            “You—” Jeonghan gasps and grins. “Wonwoo!”

            Wonwoo chuckles. “You could say I took your advice.”

            Mingyu laughs awkwardly and lets Wonwoo go, and Wonwoo removes his arms from his shoulders. “Sorry,” Mingyu says, bowing his head a little.

            “Don’t be,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head slowly. “Don’t be sorry one bit.”

            Mingyu does a nervous smile, but it falls away when he notices Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s hands. He takes a quick breath and says, “Please tell me you guys are…”

            In answer, Seungcheol brings Jeonghan’s hand up between them and kisses it. Jeonghan smiles, a rosy color on his cheeks.

            “Thank goodness,” Mingyu says, because only that is enough. He turns to Jihoon and bows to introduce himself.

            Wonwoo looks into Jeonghan’s eyes, his makeup obviously smeared by more than enough tears. “Han. I’m really proud of you.”

            “We all are,” Seungcheol says. Wonwoo can see unconditional affection in the way Seungcheol looks at Jeonghan. Kind of like the way Mingyu looks at him.

            Jeonghan smiles at the floor. “I’m…I’m sorry for just…”

            “Don’t be sorry one bit,” Wonwoo says. “Let’s go out and see everyone, yeah?”

            “Yeah,” Mingyu says, taking Wonwoo’s hand in his. “It’s time you showed this thing off again.”

            Jeonghan laughs softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. He looks over at Seungcheol and says, “All right. Let’s do it.”

            Wonwoo and Mingyu squeeze each other’s hand at the same time, and they all follow Jihoon toward the common.

 

The stares are obvious, though expected. Chan, free reign of one of the couches, watches them walk up with curious, hopeful eyes. Jisoo, coming up with two cups in his hands, stops mid-giving one to him. Minghao and Junhui turn to look when the conversation quiets. Soonyoung, cross-legged and facing Seokmin, taps him on the shoulder and motions for him to look. Even Hansol and Seungkwan, just arriving out from the bedroom, slow in their tracks as the school couple walks up to the group from third period.

            But this time, in the silence, everyone’s eyes are trained on Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s hands together.

            They all stop, and Seungcheol and Jeonghan stand there. Jeonghan tries to think of something to say, but nothing comes out. Every face he looks into shows no hostility, no discrimination, no hate. There’s nothing but compassion in this room, among these people. That, and a desperate thread of anticipation hanging in the air.

            Blessedly, Jihoon cuts it. “Don’t all genuflect at once.”

            Chan heaves a heavy sigh and his eyes squeeze shut in solace. “Hyung.”

            “Oh, finally,” Jisoo breathes out, just loud enough for Jeonghan to hear.

            Hansol and Seungkwan glance at each other and smile, making their way to the circle and taking the space next to Chan.

            “Royalty,” Soonyoung says, clutching at his heart, and Seokmin smacks his arm with a grin.

            Minghao and Seungcheol exchange a nod while Junhui says, “Do you guys want to sit? We don’t mind—”

            “No. That’s okay,” Jeonghan says, bowing his head in thanks. “It’s…” He gazes at Seungcheol again. “Everything’s just the way it should be.”

            At that, each couple gives one small sign of happiness—a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze of the hand, a contented smile.

            “Everything,” Wonwoo says, and looks up at Mingyu.

            Minghao looks at Junhui and says, “We are.”

            Soonyoung and Seokmin stand up and motion at their place on the sofa anyway. Seungcheol smiles, and he leads Jeonghan over to take a seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably not the amazingly climactic final chapter you all were hoping for after Too Damn Long of a wait but this is what I got for you so hhh. I’ll be fixing typos and minor edits soon. I just really wanted to get this out for you guys finally. Anyway ummm,,,,, final speech time.  
> Thank you all so much for sharing this story with me! This was a blast to write, and it as well as your always kind comments helped carry me through some not very good times. I’ve had the idea for the story for more than a year now, started on a whim of “what would SVT be like in high school,” and this whole thing developed. I can’t believe I wrote all but one chapter in the same amount of time it took for me to get out this last chapter lmao. But…really guys, thank you all so much. I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed it, I truly enjoy reading all of your comments and knowing that this story has at least made you smile or laugh or maybe cry a little bit :’) You’ve all said such nice things and I’ve met good people here because of this story. Thank you for giving it a chance—I know how cliché it is and must have seemed from the tags and all. Just…thank you for clicking.  
> And as always, thank you for reading.  
> I’ll be back with more content soon!  
> L


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